


Coming Out

by DPPatricks



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Case Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 15:34:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17769467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks
Summary: Minnie Kaplan and Detective Joan Meredith show up in Lieutenants Starsky and Hutch’s Cold Case office. Meredith has a serious problem and hopes they can help.





	Coming Out

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: this work was spawned by a comment Greenlady left on my story, Cold Case Trilogy, posted here on AO3.  
> THANKS, again, to my betas, Jen and Beena. You guys rock!

Lieutenant David Starsky got up from his desk, put his fists on his hips and bent backward. His spine popped satisfactorily and tense muscles began to relax. Glancing at his partner on the other side of the cramped office space, Starsky noticed that the sky-blue eyes were focused on the region slightly below his belt where his anatomy was stretching the limits of his jeans. He grinned, feeling the flush creep up his neck and inflame his face. “You can always turn me on, Hutch, just by looking at me.”

Lieutenant Ken Hutchinson’s gaze scorched slowly upward and found Starsky’s eyes. “And you turn me on just by doing what you’re doing right now.”

Starsky plastered innocence over his grin, twisted his torso a little more, and produced additional light popping sounds. “What’s that, babe?”

“Flexing that magnificent body of yours.” Hutch pushed his chair back, got up and moved languidly around the face-to-face tables. “We’re going to have to lock the door if you don’t quit.”

Before Starsky could think of a response, a knock on the aforementioned door made him jump back and head for the Mr. Coffee that sat atop their single filing cabinet in the corner of the very small room. 

Without waiting for an invitation, Minnie Kaplan stuck her head in. “Hey, fellas, you’ll never guess who I found downstairs.” She ushered Detective Joan Meredith into the room. 

Starsky put the mug he was about to fill down, took two strides to the newcomer and wrapped his arms around her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Minnie step outside and drag a chair in from the hallway. She placed it, and the room’s guest chair at the end of the tables, closed the door, and stood beside Hutch. The small space was suddenly crowded. 

“Give ‘em time, Hutch,” Minnie said, with only a touch of snide in her voice. “They ain’t seen each other in a while.”

Starsky broke the embrace and held Meredith’s shoulders at arms length. “Lookin’ good, Detective Meredith.”

She moved away and sat down in the hall’s chair. Shaking Hutch’s extended hand firmly, she looked him in the eye. “I see you’re taking good care of my former temporary partner, Lieutenant.”

Hutch cast a mock long-suffering look at Starsky. “I do my best. But he’s a handful.”

She laughed. “Don’t I know it!”

Starsky, never comfortable when people were talking about him, went back to the coffee machine. “I made a fresh pot of this stuff a little while ago. Anyone interested?” When he got three affirmatives, he filled all the cups on the tray and dispensed them to waiting hands. Sipping from his own, he crossed behind Minnie and Meredith, sat down in his chair and cocked his cup toward Minnie. “You were saying?”

Minnie took one gulp of the brew and grimaced. “You don’t make any better coffee as a lieutenant than you did when you were a sergeant, Starsky.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Starsky chided. “If you don’t like it you can always come in here every morning and make it yourself.”

She chuckled and drank some more before turning serious. “Joan needs to talk to somebody she can trust and, after closing that recent batch of cold cases, I thought you might have some time.”

Hutch put his mug on his desk, his face showing interest and concern. “What’s on your mind, Detective?”

Meredith squared her shoulders. “We were never friends, Hutch, but I did my best to watch out for your partner.”

Hutch caught Starsky’s eyes before looking back at her with self-reproach in his expression and voice. “I know you did. I apologize if it sounded like I thought otherwise.”

Starsky felt himself getting irritated. “I’m right here, guys!”

Meredith looked down into her cup. “Sorry, Starsky.”

Starsky realized that both women were friends and, hoping to nip tension in the bud, he put his cup down, too. “Minnie said you wanted to talk to us.”

When Meredith looked up, her eyes were sad. “I never came to see you, after Gunther. I’m not sure why.”

Starsky shrugged and smiled. “No reason you should have. We took those people down, with my partner’s considerable help.” He picked up his mug and saluted Hutch with it. When he looked back at Meredith, he tilted the rim in her direction. “Then each of us went back to where we belonged.”

Minnie set her coffee on the table. “And that’s what we need to discuss.”

Starsky appraised the visiting detective. “Tell us what’s going on.”

Meredith sat back in her uncomfortable chair, her normally cheerful face a mask of concern. Starsky glanced at his partner and mentally heard, _give her a minute._ So Starsky waited as patiently as his impatient nature allowed.

“I’ve fallen in love,” Meredith said into the silence. When she met Starsky’s eyes, though, he didn’t see happiness, he saw fear. “With a female patrol officer in the Fourth Precinct.”

Starsky felt as if he’d stumbled into a minefield when he hadn’t even known there was a war going on. He knew Hutch’s eyes were on him but couldn’t meet his partner’s - his lover’s stare. Instead, he reached for Meredith’s hand. “When did this happen, kid?”

Tears were threatening but she banished them and took her hand back. “Last year. Her name is Laurel Dinsmore. I met her at the State Female Police Officers’ convention in Sacramento. She’d just ended a brutal relationship with a detective from the Stockton PD who thought he could beat up on her without having to answer for it.”

Hutch picked his coffee cup back up and drank. “I hope he was disabused of that notion.”

Meredith nodded, some satisfaction showing. “He was. Laurel pressed charges and three other women came forward. He was fired, with prejudice, tried, convicted, and is serving fifteen years.”

“Good for Laurel and the others,” Starsky said.

“All the conference attendees thought so, too.” Minnie finished her coffee. “She was the keynote speaker and, afterward, during the discussion period, it turned out that her experiences hadn’t been all that rare.”

Meredith continued the thread. “Several officers’ stories were depressingly similar. Each one said she’d been inspired by Laurel’s presentation and, when they left to go back to their own cities, Minnie, Laurel and I felt there’d be some changes in the way those police departments looked at physical abuse within their ranks. At least we hoped so.”

“Did Laurel transfer to Bay City?” Hutch asked.

“Sure did.” Minnie got up and started a fresh pot of coffee, using the last of the water in the room’s tiny cooler, and talking over her shoulder. “A month after the convention, Laurel took the required refresher courses down here and got top marks. She’s a sharpshooter, too!”

Meredith smiled her thanks for the support. “Minnie and I had gone to the conference together. When we met Laurel, the three of us became friends but, the better I got to know her during that week, the more smitten, I guess you’d have to say, I was with the wounded-but-tough-little-white-chick. She’s a beautiful person, inside and out, and… I fell in love.”

Starsky exchanged a look with Hutch and knew his partner was as interested as he was. Starsky switched his attention back to Meredith. “She’s a uniform in the Fourth?”

Minnie sat down while the machine dripped. “Joan and Laurel are my closest friends and I knew they’d become a couple. But I didn’t know anything was wrong until I ran into Joan downstairs a little while ago.”

“And what _is_ wrong?” Starsky prompted.

Meredith’s death grip on her mug tightened. “Laurel and her partner are being intimidated and subtly threatened by a group of Fourth Precinct patrol officers. These guys are a bunch of homophobes led by a brute of a sergeant named Hennessey.”

Hutch sat forward. “Intimidated and threatened how?” 

“Ugly words scratched on their lockers.” The normally calm, cool and collected Meredith was clearly shaken by what she was saying. “And by thinly veiled hints that they might not get backup if they ever need it.”

“Hennessey,” Starsky said. “We know that name, Hutch. Didn’t he used to be here in the Ninth?”

“You’re right, Starsk.”

Starsky held his partner’s gaze. “He was one of the clowns we thought was spray-painting accusations on our lockers.”

Hutch nodded. “Back in the beginning, when some in the department thought we had a closer relationship than we should.”

Starsky sorted through memories. “The ones who’re still here gave up after Hennessey transferred. Right?”

Hutch shrugged. “Guess so. It hasn’t happened since he left.”

Starsky returned his attention to Meredith. “Are you and Laurel out of the closet?” 

“No!” She stated emphatically. “We’re very careful. We’re never seen together in public and, though we share an apartment, we leave and arrive separately. My name’s the only one on the lease. We don’t even shop in the same stores at the same time.”

“But you think some of her fellow officers know?” Starsky prompted.

Meredith nodded. “Laurel’s pretty sure of it. She says there’s a vibe during the morning briefings that’s beginning to make her worry about the safety of her partner. His name’s Jerry Dupree and he’s a good guy, who happens to be gay, as well. Even though it’s against department policy, he and Laurel have let rumors circulate that they’re romantically involved, in order to deflect gay scuttlebutt about either of them. She doesn’t want to see him get hurt if these prejudiced turkeys ever decide to hang them out to dry.”

“Wait a minute, Starsk.” Hutch drilled him with a look. “We’ve heard about Dinsmore and Dupree, haven’t we?”

“Now that you mention it, I believe we have,” Starsky agreed.

Meredith smiled. “Laurel and Jerry have the whole gay community in their corner, so to speak. Their tips have helped Vice, Robbery/Homicide, and Narco in the Fourth close some important cases.”

“I remember,” Hutch mused. “The press calls them the Ds and they’re both on the short list of uniforms who’ll be invited to take the next detective’s exam.” 

Meredith’s smile became almost proprietary. “They sure are.” 

Starsky caught Hutch’s eye. “I’ve got an idea.”

The corners of Hutch’s eyes crinkled. “Lay it on us, partner.”

Starsky looked at Meredith. “Until Laurel and Jerry can get the protection of gold shields, do you think their snitches would be willing to help Hutch and me solve cold cases?” 

Meredith seemed to think it was a good idea. “They could ask.”

“We’ve had a lot of luck, so far, Hutch,” Starsky went on with his thought. “But good confidential informants couldn’t hurt.”

Hutch gestured to the stacks of folders on their desks. “We might be able to shift more of these into the solved column.”

“And get the Ds even more press coverage than they’ve already had,” Starsky added. “It might make them so high-profile --”

“Like you two, you mean?” Minnie’s eyes sparkled, then dulled. “It didn’t keep Gunther from going after you, though.” As soon as she said it, she looked like she wished she hadn’t.

Starsky flinched and Hutch shuddered. “Touché,” they both said.

“I didn’t mean it that way, guys, you know I --” Minnie apologized.

Hutch patted her hand. “We know, Min, and it’s okay.” He gave Starsky one of his ‘see, Starsk? I can talk about the shooting now without falling apart’ looks and Starsky’s heart went to instant mush. Under the tables, their feet found each other and rubbed comfort unseen by their guests.

“Yeah,” Starsky admitted. “Publicity can be a two-edged sword.”

“It could backfire on them, Starsk” Hutch was obviously thinking out loud. “Make Hennessey and his gang do something overt, instead of convincing them to back off.” 

Meredith shook her head. “I’d be really nervous about Laurel and Jerry putting themselves in that position.”

Minnie put an arm around Meredith’s shoulders. “You’re thinking with your heart, sweetie, not your head. Jerry and Laurel are cops. They know the risks every time they go out on the street.”

“Yeah, but --”

“It’d be their decision,” Starsky pointed out. “We’re not going to badger them into anything.”

“Starsky’s right!” Hutch said. 

Starsky realized that, somehow, they’d gotten off track. “This would all be terrific, if they say ‘yes,’ but it doesn’t solve the Ds immediate problem.” He swallowed some coffee. “What about Laurel and Jerry talking to their Captain? Bigotry’s not supposed to be tolerated these days.”

Again, Meredith shook her head. “They’d have to bypass Lieutenant Rich. He’s in charge of patrol officers in the Fourth and a real old timey hardliner. Laurel thinks his turning a blind eye to Hennessey’s attitude is what’s letting the anti-gay group get away with stuff. Rich should have retired eons ago but is sticking around, making it difficult for anyone to think, or act, progressively.” 

“I’ll bet he doesn’t even like to see females in uniform,” Hutch offered.

“From things Laure’s said, I think you’re right,” Meredith agreed.

“What about your own captain?” Hutch asked her. “I understand he’s a good cop, a reasonable guy.”

“I think he is,” she replied. “But I’m not sure he’s equipped to handle the idea of me and Laurel as a couple.”

“You’re not in the same precincts,” Starsky noted. “There’s probably no way you’d ever be working together. So that restriction wouldn’t apply.”

“No, but…” Meredith’s expression showed she wasn’t happy.

“Yeah, ‘but…’” Hutch repeated. 

There was a somewhat strained silence for a while as coffee was drunk and thoughts were processed. Finally, Starsky set his mug down. “So we’ve got a bi-racial lesbian pair in the BCPD.” He looked at Hutch and allowed a crooked smile to split his face. “It’s about damn time!”

Instantly on the same page, Hutch’s eyes twinkled. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking, partner?”

Starsky nodded. “We’ve been waiting for something important like this, haven’t we?”

Without hesitation, Hutch reached across the desks and took Starsky’s hand. “We sure have.”

Meredith’s mouth dropped open but Minnie might as well have had canary feathers all over her face. “Thought so,” she muttered.

“You’re… what is this?” Meredith demanded. “You’re holding hands! You can’t be holding hands in a police station. You’re lieutenants, for God’s sake. _Male_ lieutenants!”

Starsky stroked Hutch’s knuckles with the thumb of his captured hand while he gave Meredith his most disarming smile. “That’s right. Ever since just after I got out of the hospital. It took us all those years of being best friends, partners, buddies, pals, for us to realize the love we’d always shared needed to take one final step.”

“So we became a couple,” Hutch said.

Meredith turned to Minnie. “And you _knew_?” 

Minnie got up and brought the fresh pot of coffee over, filling all their cups, before taking the carafe back to the machine. She sat down, smiling. “I suspected.”

Hutch lifted his full cup. “Well, Starsky and I thank you for being so circumspect, Min.”

She blew on the surface of the liquid and sipped. “You’re more than welcome. This department has never seen cops like you two. We need you! And I didn’t want to be the one to jeopardize your staying here.”

“Does anyone else know?” Starsky asked.

Minnie considered for a few moments. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Captain Dobey has his suspicions.”

Hutch let go of Starsky’s hand. “Neither would I.”

Starsky put his half-finished coffee on the table and stood up. “Well, why don’t we go upstairs and find out? Besides, whatever we come up with, to help the Ds and Meredith, he’ll have to be involved.”

*******

Starsky knocked on the hallway door of Captain Harold Dobey’s office. “The growled ‘Unless it’s an emergency, go away!’ didn’t deter him from opening the door, ushering Minnie, Meredith and Hutch in ahead of him, and closing it behind them.

Dobey got to his feet and extended his hand to Meredith. “Your captain didn’t tell me you’d be paying us a visit today, Detective. Have a seat. What can I do for you?”

Meredith and Minnie sat in the two guest chairs while Starsky and his partner hovered behind them.

“I came by to see your newest lieutenants, sir,” Meredith answered.

Dobey’s cop instincts clearly went to full alert as he sat down. “Job related? Or just checking on a couple of friends?”

When Meredith didn’t respond immediately, Starsky put a hand on her shoulder. “Professional call, Cap’n.”

Dobey laced his fingers on top of the file he’d been reading. “Do I need to get your captain over here to listen, Detective Meredith?”

She swallowed hard but straightened her shoulders. “Captain McArthur, in the Fourth, would be a better choice, sir.”

“You know him, don’t you, Capt’n?” Hutch asked. “He’s a good guy, right?”

Dobey took the question seriously. “As far as I know, he is. I’ve never heard a word against him and he’s always seemed capable. What’s this about?”

“Intimidation, Cap,” Starsky said. “And implied threats.”

Dobey’s dark gaze turned icy. “Threats against whom, Detective Meredith?”

“Against my life partner, sir,” she replied. “Officer Laurel Dinsmore.”

“Your…” Dobey was apparently at a loss for words. 

Meredith stood and faced him squarely, no apology in her posture or tone. “You heard me correctly, Captain Dobey. Laurel and I are… together.”

Dobey stood, as well, plainly digesting what he’d heard. “I see.” He glanced around at the already crowded room. “We’ll need more space.” He gestured to Starsky. “Find out if the conference room down the hall’s empty, Starsky. I’ll call Captain McArthur and ask him to come over.”

“But only him, please, sir,” Meredith said. “No one else in the Fourth.” 

“What about your captain, Detective Meredith?” Dobey asked. “I know Dan Turner personally. Should he be involved?”

“Yes, sir, I guess so,” Meredith said. “He’ll have to be, at some point, anyway.”

“Captain,” Hutch broke in. “Maybe we should take this somewhere else. If we’re all in the conference room, with two other precincts’ captains, won’t somebody get curious?”

“You’re right, Hutchinson. Where would you suggest?”

Starsky stepped toward the hallway door. “I’ll call Huggy. Maybe he’ll let us use his upstairs apartment. Everybody could park in the alley and come in the back way.”

Dobey’s face lost some of its tension. “That’s a good idea, Starsky. It’ll give me time to contact McArthur and Turner and hopefully they’ll be able to change whatever plans they have for the evening. When?”

Starsky grabbed the doorknob. “The Pits is usually jumping by about nine so we’ll have plenty of cover.”

Dobey nodded. “Nine it is. I’ll make sure they know how to find it and where to park.”

“Laurel’s patrol partner, Jerry Dupree, is part of this, too, Captain,” Hutch said. “Will it be alright if they both come?” 

Dobey almost smiled, but not quite. “That room’s not very big, if I remember right, but it should hold all of us.”

*******

Huggy and Anita brought loaded trays into the upstairs room at the Pits. While Anita distributed mugs and filled them with coffee, Huggy placed his tray on the table under the stained glass window. It contained a hot plate with a second full carafe, plus containers of cream and sugar.

As soon as everyone had been served, Anita nodded at Huggy, took her tray and left, closing the door behind her.

Dan Turner and Glenn McArthur stood together watching the skinny, colorfully-clad black man plug in the heating unit. He’d been introduced to them as Huggy Bear Brown, the proprietor of the establishment, but the captains were visibly surprised when he didn’t leave with Anita. Being quite obviously on unfamiliar ground, however, they said nothing.

Hutch knew their reputations and neither had acquired his present rank the easy way; they’d been street cops, then case-closing detectives, and now precinct captains. Turner was short and pudgy, with buzz-cut brown hair, in what was almost certainly an off-the-rack brown suit.

McArthur, dressed in dark blue trousers and jacket, was tall and lean and would probably keep his thick, wavy black locks well into later life. Hutch felt a moment’s envy, thinking of his own blond strands that were already showing his scalp in certain lights. 

Starsky, undoubtedly having read his thoughts, nudged him lightly and whispered, “Baby fine and all mine.” 

Hutch fought a blush and studied the other two people in the room he and Starsky didn’t know yet.

Laurel Dinsmore was a petite red-haired firebrand. Her blue eyes sparkled, she practically danced on the balls of her feet, and it took no imagination at all to understand why Meredith had fallen so hard. Dinsmore caught Hutch’s eye as he studied her and gave back his appraisal. Instinctively, he knew she’d never be intimidated for her own sake; she was worried about her partner.

Jerry Dupree had dark brown hair and even darker, almost sultry brown eyes. He was about Starsky’s height but his body, under his perfectly creased uniform, didn’t have the muscle definition Starsky’s did. Hutch could see where someone with Hennessey’s prejudices might consider the kid too handsome and, therefore, an easy mark. 

Anyone desiring additives doctored his or her coffee before taking seats in mismatched chairs clustered in the area between the door and the bathroom. It was crowded but no one appeared to suffer from claustrophobia.

Hutch stringently suppressed the less-than-pleasant memories he had of the room, as he was sure Starsky and Huggy were doing. Those past events had no bearing on the current situation and had to be ignored. 

Scanning the faces around him, Hutch sensed not only confusion from the two additional captains but also guarded antagonism. It was evident they had no idea why they’d been summoned and were waiting impatiently to be informed. Hutch was relieved when Dobey stood up.

“Dan, Glenn, thanks for coming,” Dobey said. “You both know everyone in the room, I think, if not personally, then by reputation.” There were a few huffs from various throats before Dobey continued. “A potential problem has been brought to my attention and I thought it needed to be discussed, at a neutral location.” He nodded ‘thanks’ to Huggy, got an acknowledging nod back, and turned to Meredith. With a ‘you’re up,’ gesture, he sat down.

Hutch could tell she had her nervousness firmly under control as, staying seated, she looked at Turner and McArthur. “Sirs, you should know, up front, that Officer Laurel Dinsmore and I…” Here she paused and, having to reach only a few inches, took Laurel’s hand. “Officer Dinsmore and I consider ourselves married.” When the two men’s faces showed shock, she continued quickly. “Not officially, of course. But we’ve made vows to each other and, as soon as California passes a law making same-sex marriage legal, we’ll be the first in line for a license.”

Both captains sat up straighter but didn’t say a word.

“Since we’re in different precincts,” Meredith went on, “it’s almost certain that we’ll never be assigned to the same cases. Therefore, department policy against spouses working together won’t apply.” 

Turner, Meredith’s captain, nodded slowly. “All right. My initial reaction to your news isn’t happiness, but that’s my problem, and one I’ll have to wrestle with. My wife tells me I’m not nearly as comfortable with… unusual… pairings as I should be. It seems, now that it’s been tossed in my lap, I’ll have to come to grips with the issue.” He stared at Meredith and Dinsmore for a few moments. “And I promise you I will. However, what does it have to do with the fact that we’re all jammed into this room?” The smile on his face, that appeared only slightly forced, was evidence that he was attempting to lighten the mood. “No offense intended, Mr. Bear.”

Huggy grinned. “None taken, Captain.”

Laurel raised her unencumbered hand. “If I may, sir?” She turned her intense gaze on McArthur. “It involves our precinct, Captain.” 

McArthur glanced at Dobey and Turner, but when neither of them offered enlightenment, he turned back to Laurel. “Go ahead, Officer. What involves our precinct? I’m not aware of any problems.”

“No, sir, I didn’t expect you would be,” Laurel replied, “as the intimidation has been subtle. So far.” 

Clearly not liking that statement, McArthur squared his shoulders and focused on Dobey and Turner. “Do either of you know what’s going on here?”

Dobey raised a placating hand. “I don’t have any more actual information than you do, Glenn, but let’s hear what Dinsmore and her partner have to say.”

Over the next ten minutes Hutch and Starsky - side by side, touching from shoulder to ankle - listened with everyone else as Laurel and Jerry told their story. The officers were the only ones who spoke and, when they were finished, silence reigned for quite a while.

Finally, Huggy got up and refilled everyone’s cups. “I’m a completely impartial observer, and probably shouldn’t even be here, but I have to say… that’s not quite what I expected the Ds to be tellin’ us.” He sat down. “They’re almost as popular with the press as my buddies…” He stared at Starsky and Hutch. “And, being a citizen of our fair community, I really don’t like the sound of what they just said.”

McArthur’s face had paled while his two officers talked, before slowly turning red. Now he blew out a breath. “Hennessey! I suspected he was a bully and a pack leader but no one’s ever filed a complaint.” 

Starsky chuckled, raising Hutch’s spirits: if Starsky could find something funny in this situation, maybe they all could. “Go on, Starsk. Tell them.”

“Finn Hennessey was a jerk when he was in the Ninth, Captain McArthur, but Hutch and I never caught him doing anything we could nail him with.”

“I’m not surprised, Starsky.” McArthur took a swallow of coffee. “I’ve watched him ever since he transferred to my precinct, hoping his father’s good traits would prevail.” He looked around the room. “Ian Hennessey was one of the best cops it was ever my privilege to work with.”

Dobey glared at Starsky, then Hutch. “Why was I never informed about any problems you had with Hennessey?”

Starsky shrugged. “We ignored him, Cap. Mostly.”

“When we wouldn’t play his game, sir,” Hutch added, “he picked up his marbles and transferred out. We thought we’d heard the last of him, and you didn’t need to know anything about it.”

Dobey returned his gaze to McArthur. “I take it the son hasn’t followed in his father’s footsteps?”

“He certainly hasn’t,” McArthur replied. “He’s mean, like his grandfather. I requested a copy of Patrick’s file from the Chicago PD after I began hearing rumors about his grandson. But, like Starsky, I haven’t been able to pin anything specific on Finn. He has a cadre of friends and they all seem to spend their off-duty time at Hennessey’s house. He’s never been married, to my knowledge.”

“Is he still in uniform?” Dobey asked.

“Yes,” McArthur responded. “Doesn’t seem to want to move up the ladder.”

“Probably too secure where he is,” Hutch noted.

“You’re right about that,” Jerry said. “With Lieutenant Rich watching out for him, Hennessey rules all shifts of the Fourth’s patrol officers.”

“I wasn’t aware that Rich was involved.” McArthur was visibly displeased with this new revelation.

“I don’t think he really is, Captain,” said Laurel. “I think Lt. Rich is too intimidated, himself, to have any affect on Sgt. Hennessey. They just kind of protect each other. Rich would rather go along to get along. If you know what I mean.”

“I know only too well,” McArthur admitted. “So, what do we do about all this, people? Unless Hennessey makes an actual threat, with witnesses, or we can prove he kept officers from responding to a request for back-up, nothing’s actionable.” 

Starsky glanced at Hutch, silently asking permission to present their plan. Hutch smiled and nodded.

“Well, sirs,” Starsky began, “Hutch and I have an idea.”

Dobey’s expression turned suspicious before he nodded. “Let’s hear it.”

Starsky got up and moved around behind Dinsmore and Dupree, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “We haven’t asked these two yet, and we really should have, but there wasn’t time.”

Laurel and Jerry shifted sideways toward each other and looked up at him. It was plain to all that they didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

When he continued, Starsky’s tone was solemn. “What if we can deter anyone in the Fourth from setting these two up, or trying to take them out, by making them so high-profile, the homophobes couldn’t dare. They’d bring the wrath of the whole department down on them if they did.”

McArthur appeared interested but wary. “And how do you propose to go about that, Lieutenant?”

Hutch got up and took a position next to his partner. “By having them work with Starsky and me on our cold cases.”

“You’ve been closing those like gangbusters,” Turner said, “from what I’ve heard.”

“We’ve had a few successes,” Hutch admitted.

“We know the Ds snitches are gold, Captain,” Starsky went on. “If Laurel and Jerry ask their C.I.s to help us with a few of the important unsolveds, we might be able to get the Ds so much new press coverage, Hennessey and his crowd would have to back off.”

Jerry looked at Laurel and Hutch could almost hear their non-verbal communication. Leaning against Starsky, he silently sent, _apparently we’re not the only ones who do this._

 _Rats_! He heard back. _I was thinkin’ we could take out a patent_.

Hutch almost smiled but Turner broke into his and Starsky’s, as well as the Ds’ thoughts.

“And how is it, officers,” Turner asked the Ds, “you’ve been able to come up with the excellent snitches you have? If you’re willing to tell us, that is.”

Dinsmore hunched a shoulder but Dupree met Turner’s hard stare. “We tap the gay community, sir. It’s a source no other cop we know of has tried.”

“By ‘we,’ Officer Dupree,” McArthur broke in, his voice harsh, “do I assume that you’re a fag, too?”

Dupree didn’t blink. “Yes, sir.”

“Glenn…” Dobey’s tone cut through the instant tension. “We’re here to listen, not judge.”

McArthur grimaced and physically swallowed whatever irritation he’d felt. “My apologies everybody, and especially you, Officer Dupree. It appears I have issues, myself, and, dear God, I hope I haven’t been unconsciously feeding Hennessey’s bigoted attitude.” He glanced at Turner. “Maybe we can help each other, Dan.”

“Good idea. If Mr. Bear…” he glanced at Huggy, “will accept us as paying customers downstairs after the meeting.” 

“It would be my pleasure, gentlemen,” Huggy returned, graciously.

“Fine.” Turner looked back at McArthur. “We’ll have a beer and talk. I’m sure my wife will be happy not to have to be my confessor. She puts up with too much from me as it is.”

McArthur’s smile was thin but it was there.

Turner scanned the rest of the room. “For right now, though, let’s hear what else the Ds have to say.”

“Our C.I.s have been very helpful,” Laurel said, clearly glad everyone seemed to be back on an even keel.

“So I’ve heard.” Turner nodded. “I’m aware of the cases you’ve helped close, and the press you’ve gotten.” He smiled. “The department’s grateful, believe me.”

Laurel smiled up at Starsky. “Jerry and I would love to help you, Lieutenant. We’ll put the word out to our informants first thing in the morning.”

“I realize this is my precinct’s problem, but --” McArthur began.

“I doubt that, Glenn,” Dobey interrupted, his tone soothing. “I have a feeling the vibes Officers Dinsmore and Dupree have been feeling are more wide-spread than we want to believe.”

“In which case,” Turner said, “we’re going to have to address it soon!”

“Yes, I believe we are,” Dobey agreed. “For the immediate future, though, we need to get the Ds into a position where they’re immune from possible action - or inaction, as the case might be - from Hennessey and company.”

McArthur’s eyes lit up. “Why don’t we form a small taskforce, Harold? I’ll pull Dupree and Dinsmore off the street and lend them to you. That’ll get them away from Hennessey, at least for a while.”

Patently not wanting to be outdone, Turner piped up. “I’ve got a currently un-partnered detective I think would like to be part of that team.” He stared at Meredith. “Isn’t that right, Detective?”

Meredith radiated happiness. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”

Hutch, sensing the gathering was about to break up, checked silently with his partner and got an emphatic nod. He put his arm around Starsky’s shoulders and cleared his throat. When everyone’s attention turned to him, he smiled. “And now, since we’re all being so convivial, Starsky and I have our own announcement.” 

Starsky beamed at the several confused faces as well as the knowing ones. “Hutch and I were aware that some in the department - including Finn Hennessey - thought we were gay from the moment we became partners. But that wasn’t the case. We just loved each other, like the best friends, buddies, pals we were.”

Hutch pulled Starsky closer. “That changed, however, after Starsky lived through Gunther’s assassination attempt.”

Starsky slipped his arm around Hutch’s waist. “We’ve been lovers ever since then.” He put his free hand on Laurel’s shoulder. “And, like Laurel and Detective Meredith, are waiting for this state’s legislators to grow up. We’ll be second in line for a license.”

The surprise among the three captains was blatant, Huggy’s expression was Cheshire Cat-ish, and Meredith, Jerry and Laurel blandly drank their coffee.

Dobey was the first to find his voice. “Well… when I think about this later - and believe me, I will be thinking about this later - I probably won’t be all that surprised. For right now, though…” he looked at Turner and McArthur, neither of whom seemed capable of speech. “I don’t believe any of us is ready to go public with the relationships discussed in this room tonight. Possibly in the near future but not right now.” When he glanced at the other captains again, they both nodded. “Okay then. there’s a room in the basement at Metro that I believe can be cleared out and turned into a command center for our taskforce, if we’re all agreed.”

Heads were nodded and Huggy began gathering empty cups. Hutch heard their friend mutter, “This is so cool.”

*******

Starsky gently wiped sweat from Hutch’s forehead and snuggled against the smooth chest. They’d engaged in spirited, mutually satisfactory sex - with lots of jokes, puns and laughter - and, expecting to continue the light mood, he licked Hutch’s left nipple. “That Jerry Dupree sure is a cutie.” Hutch stiffened and Starsky instantly knew he’d screwed up. “Hey…” He looked up into suddenly-clouded blue eyes. “I was kidding.”

Hutch blinked but didn’t relax. “Wasn’t funny.”

Starsky planted gentle kisses along Hutch’s jaw line, lingering at the point below his left ear. “No, it wasn’t, and I didn’t even mean it. No idea why I said it and I’m really sorry.”

Hutch rubbed his back and Starsky hoped he was almost forgiven. Almost. “I’m not the jealous type, Starsk, you know that.”

Starsky wrapped his arms around Hutch, his lips against the pulsing vein in the throat. “Yeah, I do know.”

Hutch sighed deeply and his other hand stroked Starsky’s arm. “I’ve never told you this but, when our marriage began to sour, Van would try to stir me up, flaunting the studs who were always hanging around her.”

“Nice,” Starsky muttered.

“In retrospect, ‘nice’ was not one of her characteristics.” Hutch’s fingers twined in Starsky’s hair. “I can’t explain why I reacted the way I did, just now, you never give me a reason to doubt you.”

Starsky tightened his grip on Hutch’s long, lean body. “Having… come out… tonight to three department captains, I should have realized you’d be a tiny bit on edge. I’m sorry I tried to tease you.”

“Hmmmmm, a few more apologies and I might be able to forgive you.”

Starsky nibbled on his partner’s chin. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

Hutch chuckled. “That should do it.”

Starsky looked up into Hutch’s eyes again and gloried in the relief and commitment he saw there. “Not that we’ll be able to advertise our status just yet, but at least we won’t have to pussy-foot around Dobey any more.”

“‘Pussy foot’?” There was bubbling humor in Hutch’s voice now. “Exactly which one of us are you categorizing as a pussy?”

Starsky threw the covers back and crawled on top of Hutch, kissing his way up the golden chest, until he straddled the muscular thighs. “That’d be me, babe. At least for the rest of the night.”

Without warning, Hutch reversed their positions, gazing down into Starsky’s eyes. “You were kinda the dominant one earlier,” he noted. “No problem with being underneath now?”

Starsky clamped his legs around Hutch’s waist and drew the delicious mouth down to his. “No problem at all.”

*******

The basement room Dobey had in mind turned out to be only slightly larger than the Cold Case office. But, with every storage item cleared out, five tables brought in and clustered, the required chairs and a filing cabinet moved in, the five people who would occupy the space concluded it was workable.

Dobey bought them a Mr. Coffee machine, unpacked it and plugged it in himself, setting it on top of the beige four-drawer unit. Grinning, he surveyed the faces of his new taskforce. “I ain’t buyin’ the coffee! The way you guys slug it down, I’d be broke in a month!”

Chuckles greeted the statement as Minnie brought the first armload of case files in. Dumping them in the middle of the tables, she backed out. 

Dobey gestured to the stack. “I’m sure Minnie will have the rest of those down here shortly so I’ll leave you to it.” He shook hands with each of the five. “Don’t think you can keep me out of the loop on any of this. I’ll expect reasonably frequent updates and look forward to whatever progress you can make. Gentlemen… ladies…?” With a genuine smile, he left the room.

*******

“Whatcha got, Jerry?” Starsky asked. He closed the folder he was reading and turned his full attention to the two uniforms who’d walked in the office. Hutch was across from him and Meredith was at the end of the tables. Files, open and closed, littered every flat surface.

Dupree grinned at his partner and took the chair next to Starsky. Dinsmore sat in the one beside Meredith, her expression a mirror of Jerry’s.

“Shit, Hutch,” Starsky said, trying to hide what felt like pride in these two youngsters. “Remind you of anyone?”

Hutch took a moment to survey the Ds, suppressing his own smile. “Us, you mean?”

“Yep!” Starsky confirmed. “Young, eager, committed cops determined to make a difference. That was us.”

“Still is, guys,” Meredith noted. “The two of you have never quit and never will.”

Hutch flushed with embarrassment and Starsky reveled in his partner’s new ability to show his full range of emotions. Only in present company, of course, but it was great to see. Starsky turned to Jerry. “So, whatcha got?”

Jerry took out a notebook and opened it on the table. “Laurel and I know two young men who are employed by an escort service.”

“Escort service?” Starsky raised an eyebrow. “They’re male prossies?”

Hutch scowled with exaggeration. “Starsky, please. Show a little class.” 

Everybody chuckled and Starsky grinned. “Sorry. Classy prostitutes are escorts. Is that right?”

Jerry nodded, a solemn expression on his face. “If you’re making a grand a night, I guess you can call yourself anything you want.”

“A _grand_?” Starsky glanced around the room. “We’re all in the wrong profession.”

More chuckles before Laurel opened her own notebook and spoke up. “Our friends, John and Jim, who hope we can keep their last names out of this, met us for coffee early this morning.”

“They’d just gotten off an over-night with an extremely wealthy female client,” Jerry continued. “They’re both gay but their employer doesn’t know that. They are, apparently, very good at satisfying women.” 

Laurel smiled mischievously. “Some of us are Oscar material.” 

Jerry blushed and studied his notebook before hurrying on. “John has my pager number and he called me.”

“Jerry got in touch with me right away,” Laurel said, “and we met them at an all-night diner on Third.”

Meredith caught Starsky’s quick glance and nodded. “Laurel told me where she was going but this is the first I’ve heard of the rest.” She nodded for Jerry to continue.

Dupree was all business now. “They’d found out, through the gay grapevine, that Laurel and I are looking for information on any open cases.”

“Cases they knew had gone cold,” Laurel added. 

“So what did these two male escorts tell you?” Starsky prompted.

Laurel pushed her notebook across to him. “Those are the names of five woman who disappeared a little over two years ago.”

Hutch and Meredith got up and moved around to read the list over Starsky’s shoulder. Then the three of them sorted through the stacks of files. Within minutes, Starsky distributed the pertinent five. Reading the tab on the one he’d kept, he said: “Marilyn Susan Hatcher.” 

Hutch followed with, “Jessie Marie Sturgis.”

“Paula Jamison,” from Dupree.

“Martha Ann Myers,” was Meredith’s contribution.

“Susannah Porter.” The final name came from Laurel.

For a quarter of an hour, the files were read and passed around. After each of them had scanned them all, Starsky looked at Hutch. “Five women between the ages of thirty and thirty-three, disappeared from their homes or apartments - which were scattered across Bay City - on the same night.”

“No witnesses or reports of a disturbance,” Hutch added, “in any of the cases. Their histories crossed at Bay City Community College for two years but investigators found no close relationships between them after that.”

“All five,” Meredith noted, “were well-to-do but without jobs or official employment. Lots of charity work and volunteering. Some overlap there but nothing substantial, and no other obvious connections between the women. They didn’t patronize the same hair dressers or salons, didn’t belong to the same clubs or shop in the same malls.”

“All married, with no children,” Laurel said, “but whose spouses were either out of town, or admitted to having marital difficulties and weren’t living at home.”

“The husbands were cleared of complicity, eventually.” Hutch closed the file in front of him and ‘talked about it’ with Starsky.

Starsky closed his own file and nodded. “These had to have given Missing Persons in each of the precincts fits, but they don’t seem to have worked together at all and ultimately came up with nothing.” 

Hutch looked around the table. “Doesn’t speak well for interdepartmental cooperation, does it?” He looked at Dupree. “So what do Jim and John say happened?”

“They believe their employer, Gerald Travelian, and a friend of his named Seth Connors, had the women abducted.”

Starsky grabbed a pad of paper and a pen. “Spell those names.” As Jerry did, Starsky wrote them down. “Who are they?”

“Travelian owns the company Jim and John work for,” Laurel said. “All-Terrain Escort Services.”

Starsky exchanged a disbelieving look with Hutch, which Dupree must have seen because he supplied the explanation. “They provide partners for every conceivable sexual proclivity. Some of which command a pretty high price.”

“I guess so.” Hutch sounded impressed in spite of himself.

Starsky made notes. “Okay. Who’s this other one?”

“The owner of an even higher-end service,” said Laurel. “Companions for the Elite.” 

Starsky shook his head. “Never heard of either one of ‘em.”

Jerry smiled. “I’m not surprised. According to Jim and John, they don’t advertise in the Yellow Pages. All their new clients come from word of mouth and they have lots and lots of satisfied customers giving out recommendations.” 

“Are they legit?” Hutch asked.

Jerry nodded. “Both are licensed companies that pay their taxes. They just don’t admit to the kinky stuff.”

Laurel picked up the thread. “Jim and John say the five women were the proprietors, and only employees, of an unlicensed service of their own.”

Hutch couldn’t hide a grim expression. “You mean, they were the working girls as well as management?”

Jerry closed his notebook. “That’s what our informants say.”

“And how do they know this?” Starsky was still writing.

Laurel checked her own notes. “A couple of years ago, Jim overheard Travelian talking to Connors one night. Travelian told his friend that the women were cutting heavily into Elite’s and All-Terrain’s profits. The women didn’t have fees and taxes to pay, weren’t running their business out of an expensive suite of offices, and paying employees enough to make them keep their mouths shut. All that meant they could afford to undercut Travelian’s and Connors’ prices. Travelian said it had to stop.”

Starsky gathered the five files and scanned them again quickly. “The women went missing a little over two years ago.” He looked at Dupree and Dinsmore. “Why are your C.I.s only coming forward now?”

Jerry and Laurel shared a look of uncertainty before Meredith took Laurel’s hand and glared at Starsky, then Hutch. “You two aren’t part of the gay community. Yet. And I’m new. But believe me when I tell you that it’s not a bed of roses. Most don’t know who to trust, even among themselves, and cops are never at the top of the list. Laurel and Jerry have worked hard gaining the little bit of trust they have. So let’s give them, and their snitches a break. They’ve come to us now. What can we do with the information?”

Starsky rubbed his foot against Hutch’s and agreed, silently, to step back. “Good points.”

Hutch picked up his phone and punched three numbers. “Captain, have you got a few minutes? We’ve found something you need to see.”

*******

Dobey’s bulk made the room seem even smaller but no one said anything while he read through the five files. Starsky drew everyone a cup of water from the cooler in the corner and passed them around.

When Dobey finally looked up, his first words were: “We’ll need warrants.” He looked at Dupree and Dinsmore. “Anonymous info won’t work. Jim and John need to give us their names and specific information.”

Jerry’s uncertainty was shared by Laurel. “We told them we’d protect them, sir,” she said.

“I know that,” Dobey replied, “but no judge is going to sign the necessary paperwork without the full names of your two escorts and details about how they come by their information.” Dobey didn’t try to hide his unhappiness with the situation but facts were facts and they all knew it. “Since we hope to take their boss down, they won’t have jobs afterward anyway. Maybe helping us with this investigation will speak well for them in the legitimate job market of their chosen profession.” He managed not to curl his lip and Hutch was proud of him.

Jerry and Laurel spoke silently and she took the lead. “Let us talk to them again, okay?” 

Dobey pushed his chair back and stood. “I didn’t expect results like this so quickly and I know the chief will be impressed. Good work!”

“Uh, Captain…” Hutch stood, as well. “Since we’re dealing with pretty sensitive issues here, could you - maybe - edit what you tell the chief? For now? Just say the Ds have come up with an excellent tip and we’re working on a major rescue - if the women are still alive - and bust, whether they’re alive or not. Generalities only, for now.”

Dobey’s expression darkened and Starsky stood, wanting to defuse a possible blowup. “Hutch is right, Cap. Not only do we not want Jerry and Laurel to have to come out of the closet just yet, we don’t want any information about their snitches to become public knowledge. The gay community could close ranks and cut us off. That wouldn’t help them, or us.”

Dobey took a minute to digest what he’d heard. “You’re right, Starsky. The chief does need to know that our little taskforce is almost ready to produce results but he _doesn’t_ need to know the specifics.” He gestured toward the Ds notebooks. “We’ll have to have the last names of the informants, though - that’s not negotiable.”

*******

Later that night, Jim Nelson and John Rudlin joined Starsky, Hutch, Meredith, and the Ds in the upstairs apartment at the Pits. Huggy and Anita passed around beers before leaving. 

“On the tab, Hug,” Hutch muttered as Huggy passed him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Huggy groused, unconvincingly. “Tell Curly I’m still waitin’ for sheckles to cover last month’s bill.”

Hutch smothered a smile as Huggy closed the door. He studied the two young men. 

Rudlin was tall, elegantly dressed in tailored slacks, shiny loafers, a silky shirt under a fitted black leather jacket, with an ascot around his neck. His longish dark hair hung to his collar, he was clean-shaven with full lips and expressive brown eyes. With his looks, Hutch was surprised Rudlin wasn’t an A-List actor. His voice was smooth, with an undercurrent of weakness when he groused, “Jim and I are putting our lives in your hands, you know.” 

Nelson gave off a more rugged persona. He wore jeans and work boots, a plaid flannel shirt and a sheepskin vest. His dark blond hair was cut short and he had a beard that made him look as if he’d just come off a two-week logging operation. He was the perfect foil for Rudlin’s polish. He slugged down half the bottle of beer in one long gulp. “Give it a rest, Johnny.”

Starsky straddled one of the chairs that still filled the room and rested his arms across the back. “Seems to me,” he growled at the still-standing C.I.s, “your lives ain’t in anybody’s hands but your own.”

Hutch drew a second chair next to Starsky and sat down. “My partner’s a little tense, fellas, so please forgive him if he’s not terribly pleasant.”

Starsky huffed, as they’d planned - he loved playing ‘bad cop’ - and Hutch waited until Jim and John had taken chairs opposite them. “The Ds, over there…” he gestured toward the two uniforms standing beside the door, “brought you to us and we’re grateful. You should be grateful to them.”

Dupree and Dinsmore didn’t move or say a word. The taskforce had worked out how this meeting should go and the uniforms were playing their stoic part. Meredith sat perpendicular to the pairs of Starsky and Hutch and Jim and John, prepared to referee.

“You see, gentlemen,” Starsky went on, his voice hard, “you’ve been guilty of withholding information in five kidnappings.”

“But… but you wouldn’t have found out about it without us.” John’s petulant tone fit his dandyish style.

Hutch dismissed the whine. “Oh, we’d have found out. Sooner or later.”

“Relax, boys,” Meredith cut in. “We’re all friends here.” She glanced around. When her look stopped on the C.I.s, she dropped into full cop mode. “You decided to help with these cases before you approached the Ds, so cut the act. You have information we need and, if we can find the missing women because of it, you’ll receive not only the department’s gratitude, but all five rewards that were posted.”

“We’ll never tell anybody it took you two years to come forward, either,” Starsky said.

“And nobody,” Hutch added, “will be any the wiser about your sexual orientation.” He got an affirmative nod from every cop in the room. “That’s a promise.” 

“We could use that money, Jim,” John said. 

Jim’s whole attitude changed. He pulled his left ankle onto his right knee and smiled. “Yeah, we sure could.”

John looked at Hutch. “You see, Jim and I’ve been thinking we could take over the service when Travelian goes down.” 

“There are a bunch of us,” Jim said. “We’ll be out of a job, otherwise.”

“That’s up to you and your co-workers.” Starsky stared for one more moment before relenting with a crooked grin. “And good luck. I’m sure there are a lot of deviant clients out there who might go off the rails if you guys don’t stay in business.”

*******

With warrants in hand, Starsky opened the glass double-doors of the posh offices of All-Terrain Escort Services and ushered Hutch and Meredith in ahead of him. Not accepting the receptionist’s stammered, “Uh… Mr. Travelian isn’t… he’s not… please, you can’t --” Starsky led the way down a plush-carpeted corridor and through a floor-to-ceiling walnut door. 

Clued in by Jim and John to the button under the edge of Travelian’s desk, Hutch darted forward and kept the man from pressing it. “Nuh, uh, uh, security can’t help you today, Travelian.”

Gerald Travelian, tall, sleek, groomed and outfitted to perfection, tried to bluff and bluster. However, confronted with the warrant, and knowing the company’s files of clients - with each one’s specific perverted preferences noted - would be scrutinized, he caved. “It was all Seth Connors idea. He’s the one… I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

*******

Connors and Travelian were questioned separately and, over their lawyers’ objections, gave each other up. 

“It’s Seth’s house,” Travelian told the taskforce. “Paid a fortune for it. It’s on the edge of the most exclusive golf course in Palm Springs. When we… uh, when _he_ came up with the idea of taking our… competitors out, he spent another fortune having the whole place sound proofed first. Those ladies have probably been screaming for two years and nobody heard them.” 

Travelian’s attorney shook his head while the rest of the people in the room filed the cold recitation away and got ready to talk to the Riverside County Sheriff’s Department.

*******

The rescue of Marilyn Hatcher, Jessie Sturgis, Paula Jamison, Martha Myers and Susannah Porter took place the next evening with Riverside County officers, their SWAT team, and the five-member BCPD taskforce in attendance. 

The four hired baby sitters, once they’d seen the law enforcement personnel surrounding the house, gave up without a whimper. “Sick o’ this gig anyway,” one of the thugs was heard to say.

Hutch couldn’t help but feel sorry for the once-gorgeous women being led out of the palatial house. They’d had no beauty treatments, no salon days, no spas, no expensive food and masseuses for a long time and might never be as attractive as they once were.

Starsky slung an arm around Hutch’s shoulders and turned him toward the Torino. “No bodies, Hutch. Can you believe it? We closed five unsolveds and don’t have to call the coroner!”

“Our lucky day, Starsk!” He knew his tone wasn’t as upbeat as his partner had hoped.

Starsky pulled him closer. “Our job’s done, Kimosabe. Let’s let the slicks, judges and juries take it from here.”

Hutch knew Starsky was right and, listening to Meredith, Jerry and Laurel laughing it up and releasing tension on their way to Meredith’s plain wrap, he grinned. “Are we going to saddle up Silver and Scout tonight, Starsk?”

Starsky cocked his eyebrows, Groucho-style. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

Hutch’s sullen mood vanished and he realized he could hardly wait.

*******

The phone rang on Starsky’s desk and, glad to have an excuse to stop reading the file in front of him, he punched the blinking button and picked up the receiver. “Starsky!”

“Hey, Starsky,” Jerry’s voice responded and Starsky hit the speaker button. “We need you guys to come to the Third Avenue Diner, cross street Adler, right away.”

Starsky checked with Hutch and Meredith across the tables and received nods. “We’re on our way!”

Grabbing jackets, Starsky held the door for Hutch and Meredith and they hurried out. 

It was after the lunch crowd might have packed the place and Jerry and Laurel, along with two young people, were seated in a large corner booth. Meredith slid onto the bench seat next to Laurel while Starsky and Hutch pulled up chairs.

Jerry made introductions, ending with, “And this is Jocelyn Randolph Stephen Edward Cranville and his sister, Elizabeth.”

The young man blushed furiously. “Joss, please. Just Joss!”

Elizabeth smirked. “My brother’s sensitive about his full name. It is a bit pretentious.”

“British?” Hutch asked politely.

The young lady nodded. “As soon as grandfather dies, father will be the seventeenth Lord Kelcroft.”

“And, eventually, you’ll be the eighteenth?” Starsky asked Joss, trying to keep his less-than-positive feelings about class-oriented people, out of his tone of voice.

“Be nice, Starsky,” Meredith murmured.

When Joss didn’t answer right away, Elizabeth put a hand on his arm. “Yes. But we hope you’ll forgive us for that.” She smiled prettily. “We got in touch with the Ds because we want to turn our parents in as blackmailers.” She stared at each member of the taskforce. “That’s a crime, isn’t it?”

Hutch nodded. “Yes, it is.”

While Starsky, his partner, and Meredith digested Elizabeth’s statement and question, plus Hutch’s answer, a waitress approached. Coffee was ordered for the three newcomers while the rest passed on anything besides the breakfasts they’d already finished. She took the plates away, returned quickly with three new cups and saucers, filled and refilled, then left.

Nothing was said until she had gone away. Starsky kept his expression bland and looked at Elizabeth. “We’re listening.”

Elizabeth circled her coffee cup with beautiful hands. “My brother’s shy, Lieutenant, so I’ll probably be the one doing most of the talking.”

“Okay.” Hutch drank coffee and put on his most non-threatening face. “As Starsky said, we’re listening.”

“Father was sent by his parents to this country when he was eighteen, to live with relatives,” Elizabeth began, “after he was caught hanging around with the gay crowd in London.” She sipped delicately from her cup. “A month after he arrived, he went to a soiree at the most exclusive country club in town and met Judith Delia Pankhurst. The party was her parents’ attempt to give her a coming out ball when she turned seventeen, like they used to do in British society. She latched onto our father, Jocelyn, the first time she saw him and the rest is history. She’s the one with all the money, by the way. The Cranvilles are penniless, they have only the Kelcroft title left. When Judith discovered his sexual leanings she laid down the law: no male lovers.”

The waitress came with a fresh pot of coffee, topped off everyone’s cup, and left again.

“I’m nineteen,” Elizabeth began, “and ever since I uttered my first sound, I’ve been told what to say, what to wear, how to behave, where to go and how long I was allowed to stay. My friends have been chosen for me, as have my tutors, dance and music instructors, elocution and deportment teachers, counselors and therapists.”

“Did you have a coming-out ball yourself?” Hutch sounded genuinely interested.

“Oh, yes,” she replied, all prim and proper, before laughing out loud. “It was a crashing bore for me and totally unsuccessful, in my mother’s considered opinion. No proposals of marriage resulted. Not even an offer of courtship.”

“I’m sorry,” Hutch told her.

“Thank you. But I’ll be honest and tell you,” she went on, “I was terribly relieved, because I knew the rest of my life would be unbearable if one of the men mother had invited had turned about to be acceptable, in her eyes.”

Starsky found himself sharing Hutch’s pity. “I’m sorry, too.”

“I’ve been living in their house,” she continued, her voice now strained, “attending university - at their expense - obeying their rules and seeing only those young men my parents approve of, ever since. I cannot wait to turn twenty-one, when the trust fund Judith’s mother left me, will be mine.” 

Starsky realized he had nothing to say about such control and, apparently neither did anyone else.

Elizabeth nudged Joss gently. “You tell them your part.”

Joss drew in a breath and sat up straighter. “I’ve been subject to the same stringent regulations as Elizabeth, but Friday of last week was my sixteenth birthday, and I thought it was as good a time as any to tell our parents about my being gay.” 

“Are you sure you are?” Meredith asked. “Sixteen’s awfully young to be positive. You can’t have had all that much experience, what with the complete control you say you’ve been under.”

Color flooded up Joss’ neck and he ducked his head. “Pretty sure,” he muttered.

Elizabeth slipped her arm around Joss’s shoulders. “I’d suspected as much since he was fourteen and his violin teacher seemed to take a great liking to him.“

Joss blushed harder. “Mother fired him for no reason she’d give me. After he left, though, I found myself missing his hugs and caresses. I felt alive when he was with me, and dead after he was gone.”

Elizabeth ruffled his hair. “I never tried to talk to him about it.” She stared defiantly at Starsky, Hutch and Meredith. “Such things aren’t discussed in polite society. Not even among family members.”

“You’ve found someone since your violin teacher?” Starsky asked. “Or someone found you?”

Joss’ color deepened but he met Starsky’s eyes. “I think we found each other. He’s my chemistry buddy. My parents know his parents and everyone accepts our explanation that we’re working on papers and experiments when we spend hours and hours in the lab his father set up for him in their garage.”

Starsky picked up his coffee and drank. “Good for you. Go on.”

Elizabeth jumped in again. “I’m partly responsible for what happened next, I guess, because I’d never told Joss about our father’s secret.” She shrugged apology at Starsky and Hutch. “You see, I’d known for quite a while.” Pink colored her cheeks. “My bedroom’s next to my parents and, even though the walls are nicely soundproofed, the heating and air conditioning vents between the rooms aren’t. I can hear everything they talk about when they think I’m asleep.” She hugged her brother’s shoulders. “I didn’t need the vents Friday, though. When Joss came home, I heard the raised voices in the living room, opened my door, and listened.”

“What happened?” Meredith asked.

Joss squeezed his eyes shut. “They threw me out of the house.”

Starsky’s gut clenched and Hutch’s thigh pressed against his, but neither of them said a word.

“They’d bought him a car for his birthday,” Elizabeth continued, “but I heard father tell Joss that, after his disgusting revelation, it was going straight back to the dealer. Mother picked up the phone and called the gate, demanding the community’s security chief come immediately. Then she called the caterer and cancelled the birthday festivities.”

“While they were waiting for the chief,” Joss went on, his voice a little firmer, “they told me they’d be disinheriting me first thing in the morning. I was never to set foot in the house again - they’d make sure I wouldn’t even be allowed through the enclave’s gate!”

Elizabeth pulled her brother closer. “My father said Joss’ possessions no longer belonged to him. That he’d leave the house with nothing except the clothes on his back and the money in his wallet!”

Starsky could tell Jerry and Laurel were having trouble listening to the second recitation of this horror and was pleased to see they were both letting Elizabeth and Joss tell their story without interruption. 

“When the security chief showed up,” Jerry said, “I was escorted off the property. The guy may have been old but he was strong and I’ve still got the bruises on my arm.”

“I followed them,” Elizabeth said. “Went through the kitchen, got my car out of the garage, and wasn’t two minutes behind them. The chief’s a jerk but he couldn’t stop me from giving Joss a ride as soon as we were outside the gates.”

Joss kissed her cheek. “She drove me to my friend’s apartment.”

Keeping her arm around his shoulders, she sent her intense gaze around the table. “As I said, my parents have no secrets from me and, after the way they treated Joss, and me, I really want to pay them back.”

When she didn’t continue right away, Meredith prodded. “You mentioned something about blackmail?’

“Yes!” Elizabeth took her arm from around Joss’ shoulders and gripped her cup. “My parents’ status among the wealthy - you might be surprised at what those who are considered British aristocrats get away with in this country. Anyway, their status has allowed them to find out all kinds of illegal things their ‘friends’ are doing and they’re currently blackmailing three of them. They’ve done it before and, from things I’ve overheard, they have lots more targets for the future.”

Hutch took out a notebook and pen. “Names?”

Elizabeth looked at Joss and, without words, confirmed his commitment to the actions they were taking. She looked at Hutch again. “Stanley Arlington, Winston Cummings, and Melvin Thornton.” 

“All upstanding citizens,” Dupree said. “Laurel and I checked, while we were waiting for you. None of them has even so much as an outstanding parking ticket.”

“They’re land developers, contractors and builders,” Laurel added.

Elizabeth nodded. “And they’ve been paying off city and county officials for years, getting approval on numerous ill-conceived, poorly designed, and detrimental projects. The three made fortunes, officials pocketed kickbacks, and everyone was happy. Except the people who found themselves with shoddily-built homes and shopping malls, badly paved roads, leaking plumbing, inadequate sewage treatment facilities, and such.” 

“I don’t like the sound of this, Hutch,” Starsky said, catching his partner’s eyes. “But it doesn’t have anything to do with our cold cases.”

Hutch considered for a moment before letting a sly smile cross his features. “I don’t recall the chief or Dobey ever saying we couldn’t investigate something new, if we found it.”

Starsky grinned. “That’s true.”

“So you’ll help us make our parents pay for what they’ve been doing?” Elizabeth asked.

Starsky saluted her with his coffee cup. “We’ll do our best.”

“I know where they keep their blackmail papers, including exactly what they have on the three men. There’s a ledger of payments with dates and amounts. They take ten thousand a month from each of the three. And they name the county and city officials who are on their payroll. I can get everything when my parents are out of the house.” 

“Be careful!” Hutch’s tone was deadly serious.

“What?” She affected surprise. “You think the future Lord and Lady Kelcroft would harm their only daughter?”

“They disinherited and kicked out their only son,” Meredith stated.

“Yes, they did.” Elizabeth sobered. “I’ll be careful.”

Hutch went to pay the check while Starsky and the others climbed out of the booth. 

“I want you two to stay in touch with Officers Dupree and Dinsmore,” Starsky told the teenagers. “Don’t rush things and do not take any chances, Elizabeth.”

She took Joss’ hand and nodded solemnly. “I won’t. That’s a promise.”

“Let the Ds know as soon as you have the information and Hutch, Detective Meredith, and I will take it from there.”

*******

When they got back to Metro, Hutch called Dobey down to their office and told him what they’d learned.

Dobey was not happy. “Payoffs and kickbacks?” He read the names of the three blackmailees again. “As soon you have the identities of the city and county officials, we really need to shine a spotlight on all the corruption! I _hate_ this kind of thing almost as much as I hate murderers and thieves!”

“Yes, sir,” Hutch responded. “You’ll have them.”

*******

The following Saturday morning, Dupree called Starsky and Hutch at home. “She got it all last night.”

“Are we meeting at the same diner?” Starsky was already slipping into his holster and jacket, with Hutch duplicating his actions.

“Yep. Just as soon as we can all get there,” Jerry answered. “Meredith’s already on her way.”

The café was more crowded but Jerry, Laurel, Joss, Elizabeth, Meredith, Starsky and Hutch managed to squeeze themselves into and around the same back-corner booth.

Elizabeth pushed a large accordion folder across the table to Hutch. “It’s all in there. Names, dates, blackmail amounts, city and county officials’ names, plus their payoffs and kickbacks. There’s more, in the back compartments, about earlier blackmail and future considerations, but what you want is in the front part.”

Hutch had to smile. “This will make Dobey a very happy camper.”

Starsky gestured to the file. ""Won't your parents notice this is gone from the safe?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Everything in there is a copy and the folder came out of Father's office supply cabinet. It only took his brand new IBM copy machine a few minutes to run everything off."

Starsky nodded. "Good enough!"

*******

In the taskforce’s office, Dobey was a happy camper, indeed, practically salivating as he read through the information. “Carlton… Alfred Smith… Fortman…” He looked up, his expression a mask of fury. “Planning and Zoning, Building permits, Inspection Chief… years on the job! And years, evidently, of taking money from these three bastards.” He shoved the papers back in the accordion and huffed. “Boy, am I ever going to enjoy watching them, and their lawyers, try to explain away everything that’s in here.” He patted the folder with affection.

Hutch smiled. “Ready for the next step, sir?”

Dobey gestured toward Elizabeth and the phone next to her. “By all means.”

Elizabeth dialed before putting the phone on speaker.

“Hello?” an anonymous voice answered.

“Mr. Arlington, my name is Elizabeth Cranville. We’ve never met but you know my parents quite well.”

“Yes… I believe I do.” Arlington’s voice was hesitant. “What can I do for you?”

“You and your friends can stop paying my mother and father,” she said.

There was silence on the other end of the line for quite a while and Hutch was beginning to think Arlington had hung up before he responded, warily. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re implying, young lady.”

“Oh, I’m not implying anything, sir. I’m stating a fact.” She grinned at the faces around her before lowering her voice and leaning conspiratorially over the speaker. “You and your two friends can stop paying ten thousand dollars a month.” She exchanged a charged look with everyone in the room before continuing. “For one single payment of a hundred thousand dollars, in cash, you’ll receive all the documentation my parents have accumulated regarding your… shall we say, unsanctioned, activities.” She waited but he didn’t respond. “Wouldn’t that be better than forking over ten grand a month for the rest of your lives?” 

“You sound like you’re on a speaker phone,” Arlington said. “Who else is listening?”

“I am, sir,” Joss spoke up. “My name’s Joss, Elizabeth is my sister.”

“Yes, I know of you,” Arlington replied, his tone slightly less tense. He stayed silent for a while before asking another question. “If my friends and I take advantage of your offer, we’d need to know why you’d be doing this.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Because Joss and I have decided to pay our parents back for their dastardly treatment of both of us. With your payment, we’ll start our own lives and you’ll never have to hear from any of the Cranvilles again! They’ll have no further hold over you and Joss and I will vanish.”

Arlington chuckled. “I’ve heard what they did to you, son, and in my opinion, taking my friends and I out from under their thumbs isn’t as much punishment as they deserve.”

“Are you offering to pay us more, Mr. Arlington?” Joss’s tone conveyed nothing but innocence.

“No,” Arlington quickly replied. “I’m only saying I applaud your not taking their… insensitivity… to your sexual orientation without fighting back.”

“So glad you approve, sir.” Elizabeth’s sarcasm was, hopefully, heard only by those in the room.

Arlington cleared his throat. “My friends and I would like to accept your proposition. Where do we meet you?”

Elizabeth glanced around again before finding her place on the printed sheet in front of her. “Don’t you need to consult with the others?”

“No, little sister, I don’t.” Arlington’s tone was full of pleasure. “I know they’ll agree.”

“How much time do you need to gather the funds?” Elizabeth asked.

“Oh, I think we can come up with it by tonight.” Arlington’s voice was laced with smugness now. “We deal in cash quite often.” 

“How about ten o’clock, then, Mr. Arlington?” Elizabeth said. “At our house, since my parents will be otherwise occupied, and Joss and I aren’t foolish enough to put ourselves in your hands elsewhere. You know where it is, of course.”

“We do.” Arlington was unmistakably anticipating the meeting. “Would you like all of us to attend?”

“Don’t you think that would be a good idea?” she countered. “I’d hate to turn all the information over to one of you, only to find out later that you’d used it against your friends. This way, you can keep an eye on each other, and the documents.”

“I like the way you think, Elizabeth Cranville.” Arlington actually sounded like he approved of her attitude.

“Fine,” she replied. “Joss and I will see you at that time. I’ll leave word at the gate that you’re expected.” 

When she disconnected, satisfied smiles circled the table. 

“Will that give the D.A. enough time,” Starsky asked Dobey, “to have warrants for Mr. and Mrs. Cranville’s arrest first, then Arlington and the others later?”

Dobey hugged the accordion to his chest and stood up. “That’s where I’m headed now. With what’s in here, I don’t think there’ll be any problem at all.” He glanced at each face. “Eight o’clock?” 

Hutch searched the surrounding faces, too, before nodding. “We’ll all be here and ready, Captain. Do I assume we’ll convoy over?”

“You assume correctly, Hutchinson!” 

*******

The arrests, in Starsky’s opinion, were almost anti-climatic. The Cranvilles, after being shown the warrant, were, at turns, offended, arrogant, and finally horrified, when convinced - by handcuffs being applied - that they were, in fact, being arrested.

“Why… why… you’ll never get away with this,” Judith Cranville protested. “Our solicitors will have your badges before morning!”

“Not in this lifetime, sweetheart,” Starsky muttered, as she and her husband were hustled into separate black and whites and driven away. 

Dobey directed the remaining uniformed and plain clothes officers into concealed positions before beckoning to the neighborhood’s security chief. “You will, of course, make sure no one at the gate mentions this when the next three show up.” The little man puffed up like a bantam rooster but Dobey cut him off. “If I find out you alerted them, in any way, I will make sure you never wear a uniform of any kind again. Anywhere! Is that clear?”

The chief wilted. “No, sir. Yes, sir. Of course not. I won’t say a word.” He slunk away.

Dobey ushered Elizabeth and Joss back inside. Starsky threw his arm over Hutch’s shoulders and followed them.

Arlington, Cummings and Thornton were shown into the living room by Elizabeth and given possession of the accordion file. They, in turn, handed over a satchel. As soon as she opened it and verified that it was filled with banded packets of money, Dobey burst into the room, followed by Starsky, Hutch, and six uniformed officers.

“Stanley Arlington, Winston Cummings, Melvin Thornton,” Dobey intoned, “you are under arrest for suborning illegal approval, permits, and cooperation from city and county officials, all of whom will be named at a later date.” He gestured to the cops who’d applied the restraints. “Read ‘em their rights and get ‘em outta here!”

*******

Later that night, at his home, Judge Markham was shown all the material Elizabeth had removed from her parents’ bedroom safe. It included a great deal of cash, plus two passports, and so much blackmail material - in addition to that which had been used against Arlington and his friends - the judge was convinced that, if granted bail, the Cranvilles would be on the next flight out of Bay City. To their numerous attorneys’ dismay, the order was given: No Bail!

After they’d been indicted and were awaiting trial, Elizabeth arranged for an elaborate celebratory party at the house which was now hers, since she had not been disinherited, inviting members of the press as well as Starsky, Hutch, Meredith, Dobey and the Ds. 

With everyone gathered in the huge living room, Elizabeth held out her arm and Joss walked under it. She kissed his cheek and turned to her audience. “My brother and I want to express our appreciation to the Bay City Police Department, specifically Captain Harold Dobey, Lieutenants Dave Starsky and Ken Hutchinson, Detective Joan Meredith, and Officers Jerry Dupree and Laurel Dinsmore, for their efforts in investigating and bringing charges against Joss’ and my parents.”

Pencils scribbled in notebooks as she looked around. “Many of you may find that statement difficult to accept but if you’d been controlled and manipulated, as my brother and I have been for our entire lives, you would understand. Suffice it to say, Joss and I are well-prepared for the verdicts we fully expect will be rendered in our parents’ cases and are more than ready to get on with our own lives. Thank you all for coming.” 

the Ds got great press, the Cranvilles sat in jail, Dobey and the chief were thrilled with the taskforce’s success, and no adverse reactions were forthcoming from Hennessey and Company. So far, Starsky thought, so good.

*******

Things had been quiet for a few weeks in the taskforce office but the morning Dupree and Dinsmore walked in with sullen looks on their faces, Hutch had a premonition that all their lives were about to change.

“Twenty-four young people are missing,” Laurel said quietly. 

“But their names may not be in your files,” Jerry added.

“And why would that be?” Hutch didn’t like the cold edge in his voice but didn’t apologize.

“Because the reports weren’t filed by a parent or family member,” Jerry said. “Teachers and friends only.”

“We suspect,” Laurel said, “that the officers who took the reports in the various precincts didn’t give them much credence. They may not even have written them up, since the ones who did the reporting were never contacted by someone conducting an investigation of any kind.”

“‘Probably runaways,’ the teachers and friends were told. ‘They’ll come home eventually.’” Jerry’s tone was scathing. 

Hutch closed the folder in front of him and caught his partner’s, then Meredith’s eyes, before turning to the Ds. “Tell us everything.”

Dupree unfolded a sheet of paper with lots of names on it. Over the next half hour, the taskforce determined that only six of the missing young people had a file.

“This is bullshit,” Starsky muttered. “Twenty-four kids not where they’re supposed to be and only six files? What’s goin’ on?”

Dupree swallowed hard. “Our informants suspect they’ve been sent to a gay conversion camp.”

“A what?” Hutch blurted out. “What the hell’s a gay conversion camp?”

“We can only give you rumors, Hutch,” Jerry said. “Speculation. They’re something new and no hard evidence has come to light. But our C.I.s suspect one’s been set up in the Sierras.”

“They’re kept way below anyone’s radar,” Laurel went on, “because what they do there is unbelievable!”

“Parents supposedly send their children to these places…” Dupree was struggling to get the words out. “If they believe their child is guilty of… deviant behavior.”

“The youngest we’ve heard about is a boy of twelve,” Laurel said. “The oldest is sixteen.”

Dupree checked his notes. “The facilities our informants have heard about in other parts of the country are run by religious and anti-gay zealots. They convince the parents that the camp can… cure… the child of his or her unnatural tendencies. They don’t specify how they do the curing, but they take the child away to a secure location where they’re free to do whatever they want.”

“Do they charge for this… service?” Hutch could barely control the hatred in his voice. Starsky’s foot found his under the tables but it wasn’t much consolation at the moment.

Laurel nodded. “A lot. According to rumor.”

“And one of these camps has been set up here?” Starsky asked.

“Not ‘here,’ exactly,” Laurel corrected, “but close.”

“What are the rumors your C.I.s are hearing?” Hutch asked, his gut already in a knot.

“The camps are always in remote locations and security’s tight,” Dupree said. “The places are fenced and the perimeters constantly patrolled. Possibly with dogs but that could be wrong. I can’t conceive of people policing children with dogs.”

“There’s a great deal about this whole thing that boggles my imagination,” Hutch admitted. “What else?”

Dupree swallowed hard. “Our people say the children are subjected to starvation, brutal living conditions with almost no shelter, sleep deprivation, tormenting lectures, beatings, and… rape.”

“To what conceivable purpose?” Hutch asked.

Tears were running down Laurel’s cheeks. “Making the child renounce his or her unnatural preferences and accept heterosexuality.” Meredith gripped her hand tightly but said nothing.

“That’s just… sick!” Starsky couldn’t come up with a word that was vile enough.

“That’s only one of the words Laurel and I thought of,” Dupree said.

*******

Dobey, after being told about the Ds’ C.I.s’ latest information, admitted to being half hopful it was lies. Hutch could tell, though, that their captain’s years of police work were urging him to believe it was true. 

“Get me details,” he hollered. “Bring your informants here and make them swear to what they’re telling you. If that happens, I promise you this entire state will turn over every rock we have to in order to find this damn place and put it out of business!”

Knowing other members of the gay community had been fairly treated by Starsky and Hutch, the Ds, and the press, six women and three men presented themselves in the taskforce’s office and gave sworn affidavits to what they’d heard concerning a suspected gay conversion camp outside Fresno. Questioned individually, their reports were frighteningly similar.

*******

That night, Hutch was unusually quiet and didn’t, or couldn’t, respond to Starsky’s attempts to initiate intimacy. “Can’t get them out of your mind, can you?” he asked.

Hutch, his body so tense it was almost vibrating, shook his head. 

Starsky wrapped his arms around Hutch’s waist and laid his head on the shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”

Hutch sighed deeply. “First the Cranvilles, now this. How dare parents think they can influence their child’s nature by forcing conformity on them?”

“Stupidity? Arrogance? Sheer blind contempt for anything they believe, or have been taught, is wrong?”

“It would take a certain mind set, wouldn’t it?”

“One I don’t even want to think about.”

“But, even if they believe in heterosexuality, Starsk, how could they condemn a child to what the Ds and their informants believe is going on in the camp? I guess I can understand anger and frustration, but… rape?”

“Remember what we read last week? That the legislature is talking about a new law making child endangerment a crime? Somebody must think places like this really do exist and want an avenue for prosecution.”

“That would be a step in the right direction. But how long is it going to take to enact the law? Kids are evidently suffering _now_!”

“It’ll take however long it takes, babe. In the meantime, we need to bust that place.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Starsk.”

*******

With Dobey’s approval, Minnie searched California databases and found a listing for “Conservative Futures Camp” in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains, between Fresno and Visalia. Its ownership was traced to a shell corporation based in the Cayman Islands - no individual person was listed.

When Dobey called Sheriff Warren in Tulare County, he was told there had been rumors about what went on at the camp but nothing substantiated. As soon as Dobey read parts of the statements made by the Ds’ C.I.s to the sheriff, Warren told Dobey he’d get in touch with the CHP and, with their help, check out the camp as soon as possible. “Care to join us, Captain Dobey?”

“I thought you’d never ask, Sheriff.”

Warren held most of the members of his raiding party in reserve but, when he was denied access to the grounds of the camp by armed guards, he called in the troops and what they found inside the fences sent many hardened officers to the bushes to void their stomachs.

Undernourished children, beaten children, wide-eyed mute children, occupied the tents and sheds scattered around slit trenches and a cook pot suspended over a central fire pit. The kettle held what might be identified as gruel and the fire under it was the compound’s only visible source of heat. Hutch wondered how many kids had died of hypothermia, since each cot in the tents and sheds showed only one thin blanket. 

Whatever the courts decided to do with the perpetrators of this horror, it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Hutch’s craving for justice. 

Starsky snaked an arm around Hutch’s waist. “Try to let it go, babe,” he said, sotto voce. “One way or the other, eventually, they’ll pay for this.”

Hutch bowed his head. “It won’t be enough.”

“No, it won’t. But at least this place will no longer be able to ‘cure’ kids of their… affliction.” 

Hutch turned to look in the deep blue eyes of his partner. “What about the others, Starsk? What about camps somewhere else that’ll go on raping and torturing children because their parents hate what they’ve created?”

“Hutch… my love… you and I can only do so much. We’ve taken this place down and, hopefully, the furor this is going to cause in the press, will convince other places like it to fold.”

“Yeah, I guess we can hope.”

*******

“Curing their children of the sickness of homosexuality,” Dobey quoted from a report. “That’s what the parents say about why they sent their children to Conservative Futures Camp.” He threw the pages down. “Can you believe that?”

Starsky sat on the arm of Hutch’s chair and handed him a cup of water. “We’re trying, Cap. It’s difficult, but we’re trying.” 

Dobey’s fury left him and Starsky thought it looked like a balloon deflating. 

“Some of the kids won’t talk,” Dobey went on. “Too traumatized, Sheriff Warren’s shrink theorizes. But others have told of starvation, not being allowed to sleep, beatings, being taken out into the woods and… violated.” He laced his fingers on top of the folders on his desk. “I think the County Attorney up there is trying to find new charges he can throw at the guards, the cook, and the supposed counselors who came in once a week to give lectures and oversee the… corrective measures.”

“The guards had their own quarters, didn’t they?” Starsky asked.

“You bet,” Dobey snarled. “A cozy little bunkhouse. Sturdily constructed, insulated, with a fireplace and air conditioning. Full bathroom facilities, with hot water, and a kitchen!”

“Have they found the owners, yet?” Hutch asked.

“No. Their names are buried so deeply they may never surface.”

“And nobody at the camp is willing to give them up?” Hutch found that hard to believe. They had to be zealots themselves.

“Not yet. Maybe, when they actually face jail time, they will, but…” Dobey shook his head.

“Yeah, but…” Starsky repeated.

“Any chance the parents can be charged?” Hutch was staring into his cup of water, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Again, not yet. And by the time the legislature gets around to passing a law, they could have fled the country.”

Starsky put his arm around Hutch’s shoulders. “Best we can do, Cap. Best we can do. At least the subjects of our six cold case files are still alive.”

Dobey took a moment to think about that. “You’re right, Starsky. We have that positive point to hold onto. They’ve been taken away from the adults who betrayed them and are going to be wards of the state. They’ll need a lot of care and therapy but, as you say, they’re alive.”

*******

As predicted, the media storm that resulted from the evacuation of the camp’s occupants, and their horrifying stories, kept TV and newspaper reporters going for weeks. The Ds got more face- and print-time than the members of the original meeting in Huggy’s upstairs room could have hoped. What Hennessey and his cohorts were thinking, though, was anyone’s guess.

******* 

Early on a Monday, while the furor over the camp was still swirling, Dobey came down to the basement without warning. He had his topcoat on so he was apparently stopping in before going to his own office. Drawing a cup of water from the cooler, he sat in the chair Starsky pushed out for him. “You’ll never guess who came to visit me last night.”

“Martin Luther King,” Starsky offered, receiving a kick under the table from Hutch. Dobey glared and Starsky tried again. “President Reagan?” Hutch flicked a rubber band at him and Starsky decided humor wasn’t on the menu. “Sorry, Cap, guess I forgot to take my serious pill this morning.”

After a few glowering moments, Dobey looked at each person in the room as they all sank into chairs around the tables. “Lillian Hennessey,” he said. “Finn’s mother. She has information for us but I didn’t want her coming here - too many eyes. I suggested we all meet at my house tonight and she was agreeable to that. Eight o’clock. I’ll call Turner and McArthur when I get upstairs, see if they can make it.”

After Dobey left, Starsky, Hutch and Meredith batted back and forth the fact that Lillian Hennessey wanted to talk to them. What Finn’s mother had on her mind, or up her sleeve, made them all antsy. Dupree and Dinsmore flitted in and out, taking more snitches’ tips - none of which panned out. The day seemed very long, to everyone.

Hutch rode out to the Dobey’s in the Torino. Meredith and the Ds went in Meredith’s unmarked. Not knowing what the evening’s topic of discussion was to be, but suspicious of possible surveillance, they kept eyes out for tails and parked a couple of streets away. Turner’s and McArthur’s personal vehicles were already in front of the Dobey house when they arrived.

Lillian Hennessey was there and Edith Dobey was serving coffee, iced and hot tea, and homemade cookies. She left after making sure all her guests had something to drink and were within reach of the three platters of goodies.

Lillian Hennessey, a slender, white-haired woman somewhere north of sixty, sat on one end of the couch. She had a cup of tea balanced on her knee, with the hem of her floor-length, vividly-colored skirt folded neatly around her feet. Her full-sleeved blouse and ropes of beads shouted ‘hippy,’ and her lined face, showing no visible makeup, testified to the fact that she had probably enjoyed that particular culture enormously. Blue eyes were as bright as laser beams and her long, slim fingers cradled the saucer calmly.

The living room was large enough to accommodate nine occupants without crowding and, as soon as introductions were made and everyone had taken seats, Dobey addressed them all. “Last night, Mrs. Hennessey told me she has information she believes we need to hear.” He gestured for the lady to begin. “Ma’am?”

She bowed her head in Dobey’s direction. “Thank you, Captain.” Taking a sip of the tea, she placed cup and saucer on the end table and faced her audience. “My name is Lillian Hennessey, wife if Ian, mother of Finn.” She smoothed the skirt over her knees and folded her hands on them before smiling at McArthur. “Glenn and I know each other, of course, because he and my late husband were good friends for many years.”

McArthur nodded in acknowledgment. “Good to see you, Lillian. Even if you have things to say we might not want to hear.”

“You may be wondering,” she continued, still talking to McArthur, “why I went to Captain Dobey instead of coming to you but I believe you’ll understand, once you’ve all heard what I have to say.”

He sat back in his chair. “Then, by all means, tell us what’s on your mind.”

She scanned each face in the room before taking a deep breath. “I hate what I believe my son has become, which is a duplicate of his grandfather.”

Over the next half hour, Lillian told the ones who didn’t already know it, the Hennessey Family History. Patrick, Finn’s grandfather, had been a corrupt Chicago cop in the 1920s. His son, Ian, had been of a different, much more ethical persuasion, and had become a code-breaker in World War Two. He and Lillian had met in the War Office in Washington, D.C., and had married almost immediately after. Both families were horrified by their impetuosity but the union had lasted for over thirty years and had ended only with Ian’s fatal heart attack two years previously. 

When the peace with Japan was declared and, as soon as he was released from his duties, Ian had moved himself and his new wife from Chicago to California, telling Lillian he needed to be away from the sphere of his father’s influence.

“I’m aware of your husband’s excellent reputation in the BCPD, ma’am,” Dobey said. “He was a fine officer.”

She smiled her appreciation. “I believe he was definitely one of the good ones.” Her face clouded and she went on. “Our son, however, has apparently taken after his grandfather.” She retrieved her tea and emptied the cup, keeping it in her hands.

“My husband was a great believer in technology,” she said. “He subscribed to Popular Science, Popular Mechanics, and every other magazine that purported to keep people informed of advances in all areas of improving communications. Having been in on the ground floor of the development of radar, myself, due to my father’s hauling me to his office every day, I shared Ian’s passion in those fields. Which leads me to the reason for my visit.” 

She slipped her hand into the large tie-dyed fabric purse next to her and brought out a plastic bag full of audio tapes. “Do you have a player for these, Captain Dobey?”

Dobey leaned over and studied the single tape she removed from the bag. “Yes, I’m sure I do. I’ll only be a moment.” He got up and left the room. No one moved or spoke while they waited.

Returning after only a couple of minutes, Dobey placed a player/recorder on the cocktail table and plugged it in next to the couch. He moved back to his chair and sat down. “You have a captive audience, Mrs. Hennessey.”

She inserted the tape into the machine and pushed ‘Play.’ Male voices issued from the device and, over the next few minutes, everyone heard non-specific murder and mayhem discussed, and alluded to, in casual tones. 

At a lengthy pause, Mrs. Hennessey stopped the tape and looked at Dobey. “I have suspected my son and his friends of less-than-savory activities for quite some time. A month ago, I suggested to Finn that I move out of the house and into the guest quarters above the garage. Realizing he’d have the place to himself and his friends, without my interfering presence, he readily agreed to the idea.” She gestured toward the tape player. “What he didn’t know was that I had planted listening devices in every room. I’ve been recording him and his gang’s conversations ever since.”

Dobey ejected the tape and read the date on the label. “This is from the night before last?”

“Yes,” she replied. “It added details to information from other recordings and I knew I had to come to you immediately.” She turned her attention to Starsky, Hutch, Meredith and the Ds. “You may not have gotten the entire plan from the bits you just heard but the rest is on the other cassettes. My son is going to try to kill all of you by fire bombing a place called the Pits.”

Starsky felt himself go cold. Huggy, Anita, Diane, and everyone who patronized their friend’s establishment were now in Hennessey’s sights. Hutch pressed a knee against his and Starsky had the comfort of his partner’s unspoken assurance that they wouldn’t let it happen. 

Mrs. Hennessey reached into her purse again and extracted several sheets of paper. “All the details they’ve discussed on previous tapes are noted here. I’m sure you’ll need to listen to them all but I’ve distilled it for you, to save time.”

Dobey took the pages and kept hold of her hand. “Mrs. Hennessey, I can’t tell you --”

She took her hand back and waved it. “No need to say anything, Captain. I watch the news, I read the papers. I know how good these officers are, I know how you value them and their service to Bay City.” She bathed them all with her approval. “My husband spoke of Starsky and Hutch often, and I hold them in high esteem, as well. I’m determined that nothing happen to any of them. My son and his group cannot be allowed to carry out this heinous act. They belong in jail, every one of them!”

Starsky excused himself and went out to the phone in the hallway. By the time Huggy answered, Hutch was leaning over his shoulder.

“This is the Bear speakin’.” Huggy’s Caribbean-flavored voice flowed out of the instrument. “How may I be of assistance this fine evening?”

“Hug, it’s Starsky.”

“M’ man! How’s it hangin’?”

“Can you get away from there for a while?” Starsky asked. “You need to listen to something.”

“No can do, Starsky. The place is packed! I gotta be here.” Background noise was loud, enforcing Huggy’s description.

Hutch put his hand over Starsky’s on the mouthpiece and tilted it toward him. “It’s important, Hug,” 

The combination of the seriousness in both Starsky’s and Hutch’s tones must have gotten through Huggy’s defenses because he sighed with resignation. “Where are you?”

“Dobey’s house,” Starsky said. “You’ve been here before.”

“Yeah, I have,” Huggy responded. “Give me half an hour.”

“Take as long as you need, Hug.” Hutch let go of the phone so that Starsky could hang it up.

Starsky, with Hutch on his heels, went back into the living room and sat down. “I thought Huggy should hear this, Cap,” Starsky explained, in response to Dobey’s raised eyebrow.

Dobey looked as if he wished he’d thought of it himself. “You’re absolutely right! It’s his place they’re talking about destroying. Is he on his way?”

“Yes, sir,” Starsky responded. “As soon as he can get here.”

Over the next thirty minutes, the initial tape was listened to several times in its entirety, notes were taken, lists were made, and plans were suggested, talked about, and either written down or discarded. Not one person in the room made light of, or disparaged the potential threat to lives and property.

Without a word, Edith brought a fresh pot of coffee and pitcher of iced tea. She poured another cup of hot tea for Mrs. Hennessey and passed around the cookies before disappearing again.

Dobey let Huggy in when he knocked and introduced him to Mrs. Hennessey. Huggy bent over her hand and kissed the knuckles. “I’m honored, ma’am. I had a few dealings with your husband and was never anything but impressed. He was a good man.”

She smiled brilliantly. “No better words can ever be said. Thank you.”

Huggy poured a glass of iced tea, sat next to Mrs. Hennessey, and fixed his gaze on Starsky and Hutch. “So, wha’s up?”

When he’d been told what Hennessey was planning, his eyes went wide. “This is some serious shit!” He turned quickly to Lillian, grabbed her hand and kissed it again. “Sorry, Mrs. H., didn’t mean to swear in front of a lady.”

“No apology needed. I’ve heard the word before.” A flush colored her cheeks. “And have even been known to use it a time or two myself.”

Starsky grinned and tensions relaxed a little. “You’re absolutely right, Hug. This is some serious shit.”

Huggy’s expressive face turned thoughtful. “How do these clowns know about the meeting you guys had at my place?” Silence reigned as everyone thought about that. “And how are they gonna find out about the next one? If there’s gonna be a next one.”

“Oh, there is definitely going to be a next one, Huggy,” Dobey said. “We were talking, before you got here, about just that.”

“But we hadn’t realized,” Starsky added, “that we have a leak somewhere.”

Dobey put a line under the notes he’d been making and wrote ‘leak’ in bold letters. “Dan, Glenn, and I will put our heads together later and figure out who’s been talking. Until then…” he turned the page over. “Let’s hear one or two of the earlier tapes, to get an idea of what else they discuss.” 

Mrs. Hennessey took one out of the bag and inserted it into the machine. This time, the voices included a female. After she’d exchanged several ribald comments with unidentified persons and laughed at one explicit suggestion - during which Starsky noticed McArthur’s face pale - a voice they’d already identified as Finn’s, called her Dora. 

McArthur lunged forward and pressed ‘Stop.’ His face was ashen, his expression stunned. “That’s my sister-in-law.”

“What would your sister-in-law be doing in Finn Hennessey’s house?” Dobey’s tone was taut but calm.

McArthur sat back and no one interrupted his mental self-interrogation. When he looked at Dobey, it was with guilt and remorse. “I can’t tell you, for sure, but I bet I can guess.” He took several deep breaths, visibly getting his thoughts in order. “Her name is Dorabeth Hotchkiss. She went through an ugly divorce last year and came to live with my wife and me while she gets back on her feet.” 

He gulped coffee and refilled his cup. “Remember when the chief wanted to initiate that pet project of his, Harold? Having civilians take some of the simple, paper pushing workload off uniformed officers? Making up rosters? Scheduling vacation time, finding replacements to cover sick time? Pulling files and filing reports? Things civilians could do, freeing up uniforms for real cop work?”

Dobey nodded but said nothing. 

“My wife thought Dora would be perfect and she pushed her to apply for one of the jobs.” McArthur scanned everyone’s face. “She’s good, too!” he went on. “I never realized how disorganized I was until Dora took over a few of the chores I hated, like keeping my calendar. I haven’t been late for an appointment, or missed a meeting, since she found an old desk and chair and stationed herself in the alcove outside my office. The Fourth Precinct has never been as well organized.”

Starsky caught Hutch and Dobey’s eyes. “Sound familiar?”

Dobey physically shuddered. “My secretary. That mess with Mellon and his daughter.” He brought himself back to the present and looked at McArthur. “Did you tell her about our first get together?”

McArthur thought about it. “No. But I did say I was leaving early to catch dinner with her sister before an important meeting.” He thought some more. “And I wrote the name and address of the Pits on my desk calendar.”

“Did you lock your office when you left?” Starsky asked.

McArthur nodded. “Yes. But she has a key. She could easily have gone in and read what I’d written.”

“Why would she, though?” Mrs. Hennessey, a good cop’s wife, was unmistakably having difficulty with the idea of a woman consorting with men bent on doing harm.

“I can only imagine she’s fallen in love with your son, Lillian, or one of his cohorts,” McArthur replied. “She’d certainly have every opportunity to run into them, have dealings with them, every day at the precinct.”

“I have heard her voice on many of the tapes,” Mrs. Hennessey admitted. “And I believe she’s been… intimate… not only with Finn, but with several of the others.” She blushed redder. “I never keep the tapes from the listening devices in those rooms if what I hear isn’t pertinent to their plans. I record over them immediately.”

“Does Dora live with you and your wife?” Hutch asked, forcibly changing the subject.

McArthur turned thoughtful again. “Yes. But Marybeth and I have noticed that, lately, Dora’s been coming home fewer and fewer nights. She hasn’t offered an explanation and I think my wife was so pleased that her sister was finally getting over the divorce, she wasn’t willing to risk rocking the boat.” His gaze stopped on Mrs. H. “My guess is she’s spending those nights at your house.”

“Did you tell her where you were coming tonight?” Dobey asked. “And why?”

McArthur shook his head firmly. “Thankfully, no, I didn’t. She wasn’t at her desk when I left and I didn’t write it down anywhere.”

“Okay.” Dobey drew another line under his notes. “If Dorabeth Hotchkiss is Finn Hennessey’s spy…” he cast a sorrowful glance at McArthur, “we have to verify.”

“You mean, plant a story and see if it gets back to Hennessey?” Turner asked.

“Exactly!” Dobey studied his notes for a few moments, then looked around. “What if we have Glenn tell her, in the morning, that he’s going to be strategizing with two other captains tomorrow night, over an upcoming operation?” He glanced at McArthur. “Make sure you write the Pits in your calendar again, so that she has a chance to see it after you leave.”

“If Hennessey or members of his gang show up, we’ll know she passed the word.” Starsky glanced at Huggy. “You’d spot them, right? You know who Finn Hennessey hangs out with?”

Huggy’s face was grim. “I know ‘em.”

“Are they regulars at your place?” Turner’s voice had taken on an edge. “If they are, we shouldn’t --”

“Hell, no!” Huggy interrupted. “Pairs of ‘em come in every so often, like they’re checkin’ the place out for drug dealers but you know me, Starsky, I don’t allow no drug deals in my place.”

“I know, Hug.” Starsky put a reassuring hand on his arm. “We all do.”

“They make sure I know they’re there,” Huggy added. “They have a couple of beers and glare a lot but never talk to anyone. Surly is what they are.”

“Surly’s okay, as long as you recognize them. So if they show up,” Starsky looked at everyone else and no one appeared to disagree, “it’ll be to make sure Dorabeth’s information was correct.”

Turner seemed unsure. “Will that be enough to pin her as the leak?”

“If they leave soon after you three get there, Captain,” Hutch offered, “I’d say so.”

Huggy couldn’t hide his worry. “How long are they gonna wait before they come in with bombs, ya think?” 

Mrs. Hennessey gestured toward the recorder. “I haven’t heard anything about a date or day, Mr. Bear. They sound, to me, like they’re still in the planning stages.”

Dobey nodded. “That’s the way I heard it, too. So we should have a little time to get our own ducks in a row.”

“Let’s talk about this,” Turner suggested. “What, exactly, did we hear on those tapes?” 

Dobey flipped pages in his notebook. “On the night they decide to hit us, they’ll wait ‘til all the members of the taskforce are upstairs. Then four guys from Hennessey’s gang will enter the bar, roust and herd everyone into the kitchen. Two of them will chain the back door while the others light up and throw Molotov cocktails everywhere. As soon as the place is burning, they’ll run out the front, and barricade that from the outside.”

Turner took up the recitation. “Hennessey and two others will be on the roof across the street, armed with rifles. Anyone who tries to escape the fire through the roof access will be shot.”

“He plans for everyone to burn to death in the bar, or get killed on the roof.” McArthur shook his head. “How did I not realize people as sick as this were wearing the uniform in my precinct?”

“Hindsight’s twenty-twenty, Glenn,” Dobey noted. “Let’s figure out how to keep any of it from happening, and then put them away where they won’t ever be able to hurt anyone.”

Lillian Hennessey laid the bag of tapes on the table next to the player. “I have lots more blank cassettes, Captain Dobey. If I hear anything you need to know, I’ll call you immediately.”

Dobey stood up and offered his hand as she rose. “Thanks doesn’t begin to cover what we owe you, ma’am. All of us will be forever in your debt.”

She passed it off with a wave. “Just stop my son. That’s all I ask.”

*******

The next night, Hutch and Starsky, with Huggy at their shoulder, watched the main room of the Pits from the kitchen. 

“That’s them,” Huggy whispered. “These two are Clayton and Reed, I think. Don’t know their first names.”

Hutch saw two casually-dressed men walk through the front doors and take a booth in a corner where they could see the whole place. They scanned every face and settled in. A minute later, Anita approached and took their order. As she moved behind the bar and drew two beers, Hutch keyed the radio in his hand. “Two of them are here, Captain,” he whispered.

Anita had delivered the glasses by the time Dobey, McArthur and Turner passed the kitchen doors from the back hallway and climbed the stairs. Clayton and Reed drank slowly. Ten minutes later, as soon as Meredith and the Ds had entered, also from the back, and gone upstairs, Clayton threw money on the table, they got up and left.

“I’m offended,” Hutch huffed. “They didn’t wait for us!”

Starsky snickered. “Saw enough to verify what Dorabeth told them, I guess.”

Hutch pushed the kitchen doors open and followed his partner and Huggy into the main room, speaking in a normal voice into the radio. “They’re gone, sir.”

“Come on up.” Dobey’s voice was tense.

Hutch followed Huggy and his partner upstairs.

“Since we want them to fit their timetable to ours,” Dobey began, once seated, “let’s give them a target date.”

“How about Friday?” McArthur suggested. “That sound like a believable number of nights between meetings?”

After everyone had nodded, Dobey picked it up. “We need to give them enough time to set everything up on their end, but not enough to suspect a trap.”

“What do I tell Dorabeth tomorrow?” McArthur asked.

Hutch had an idea. “Can you say something like things are heating up on a complicated operation? Since she’s your sister-in-law you feel you can confide in her but she’s not to say a word to anyone else.”

“That’ll work.” McArthur almost smirked. “I know my wife well enough to believe her sister will love to think she’s being asked to keep a secret.”

Starsky grinned. “Tell her the Ds have gotten a tip that’s going to blow the lid off a huge drug deal in the Seventh. The whole department’s going to be involved when it happens. She’ll tell Hennessey and it’ll make him think we’re focused on an op that’s entirely removed from him.”

“I like it,” Turner and Dobey said, simultaneously. 

Huggy had remained at the closed door but he now came in and sat in one of the vacant chairs. “What about my customers? How’re we gonna insure that none of them gets hurt?”

“You can’t warn anyone, Hug,” Hutch said.

“That’s right!” Dobey agreed. “It has to appear like a regular busy night and we don’t want to fill the place with any more than the usual number of cops who hang out there.”

“I know that!” Huggy flared. “I’m just askin’ how we protect everyone?”

“By being ready for them,” Starsky stated. “Believe me, Hug, none of us wants this to go South. We’re going to plan, and re-plan until every single detail is worked out and ready to go.”

Huggy appeared only slightly mollified. “I’m trustin’ all of ya.”

Dobey nodded emphatically. “You can.”

*******

Starsky couldn’t remember ever being this nervous. Usually, events happened quickly in police work, without time to think about how many ways things could go wrong with a set-up and bust. Here, the taskforce had had days to plan, make changes in those plans, refine everyone’s part and lay everything out. They couldn’t afford to miss a single detail but who knew if they’d thought of every contingency?

Bigelow, in Property, had scoured the entire department - without letting anyone else know why he was searching - to find a Kevlar vest large enough to cover Dobey’s substantial bulk. 

“Maybe I really do need to go on a diet,” he muttered as they suited up in the taskforce’s basement office. 

Knowing the strain they were all under, Starsky tried levity. “Naw, Cap, the company has to make bigger vests, that’s all.”

Dobey’s suit coat wouldn’t button over the padding but the light on the roof would be terrible anyway; it was hoped that Hennessey and his assassins wouldn’t notice. Although Starsky and Hutch had argued against it, Dobey had pulled rank and insisted that he be the first one out the roof-access door. 

Starsky helped Huggy secure his much-easier-to-find protection. “You know you don’t have to do this, Hug.” As often as Huggy had helped him and Hutch with their cases, he’d never deliberately put himself in the line of fire before and Starsky was worried.

“Yeah, I do, Starsky. It’s my people these turkeys are tryin’ t’ kill.” He shrugged. “Besides, this way, one more cop’ll be in on the take-down, not drawin’ bullets in the moonlight.”

Dobey slung an arm around Huggy’s shoulders. “Relax, Starsky. I’ve checked Hennessey’s results on the firing range. He scores only high enough to pass. And he’d never have anyone on his team who’s better at something than he is - that’s not his nature. He and the others won’t be going for expert marksman head-shots, they’ll be aiming for the biggest, easiest targets - torsos.” He patted his padding. “We’ll be fine.”

“You’d better be,” Starsky snarled as he and Hutch affixed the Velcro straps around each other’s waists. 

*******

Hutch knew that every member of the take-down team was wearing a vest but he was nearly as nervous as his partner. Apprehending bent cops was always chancy but, in this case, these bent cops would already have attempted to kill everyone inside the Pits, as well as Huggy and Dobey on the roof. The taskforce needed those actions in order to make attempted-murder charges stick. But he was very much afraid Hennessey and Company wouldn’t easily accept being arrested.

He and Starsky, as well as Meredith and the Ds, were crouched behind a pair of Dumpsters in the alley behind the dry cleaners across the street from Huggy’s bar. It was nine o’clock and Hennessey, plus two of his cronies - all dressed in black, with hoods over their heads and rifles in their hands - had climbed the fire escape and disappeared over the parapet five minutes before, undoubtedly to take positions at the front of the building in order to cover the roof of the Pits.

Hutch grabbed Starsky’s arm, alerting everyone to impending action, when Babcock whispered in his ear. “Four comin’ in. Show time.” 

Through the microphone pinned under Simmons’ lapel inside the Pits, Hutch heard harsh orders: “Everybody! Into the kitchen!” Shrieks, shouts and scuffling ensued as Hutch imagined the eight plain clothes cops inside, undercover as patrons, jumping the bad guys and taking them down before they knew what was happening to them. 

“Cuffed and on the floor,” Babcock’s voice reported. “Step two being initiated now.”

With that, Hutch stood up and headed for the fire escape. He gave Starsky a cupped-hands boost and received a grab-my-hand lift in return. How Meredith and the others planned on making the jump was up to them. He had no doubt, however, that they’d be right behind him and Starsky.

Screams that Hutch knew, or at least hoped, were planned and scripted, now came through his ear piece as he visualized Babcock and Simmons pulling buckets of flammables out of concealment, placing them around the room, and lighting them. Within a minute or so, the front door would be yanked open, allowing billows of smoke to pour out. Simmons, Babcock and two other officers, dressed in the four thugs’ black coverings, would run out, slam and barricade the doors behind them, before sprinting down the street and around the corner. 

The taskforce had had Hennessey and Company’s detailed plans from Mrs. Hennessey’s tapes for three days. They had to hope those plans were being followed to the letter.

Starsky reached the parapet at the edge of the roof and slipped silently over it. Hutch followed two seconds later and both made room for Meredith and the Ds, coming up behind.

At the street-side of the roof, three dark figures crouched, rifles propped and aimed toward the opposite rooftop. Just as Dinsmore and Dupree joined them, the roof-access door of the Pits burst open, allowing heavy smoke to precede the two figures who stumbled out.

Hutch and Starsky darted forward, any sound they made unheard by the gunmen as they fired. Hutch saw Dobey and Huggy go down and prayed that, as predicted, Hennessey and his buddies had gone for body-shots.

Before the assassins could fire again, Hutch, Starsky and Meredith, had the muzzles of their guns in the shooters’ ears. 

“You’re done, turkey!” Starsky shouted.

“Drop ‘em!” Hutch added, ripping the rifle out of the hands of the bad guy he was standing over and throwing it aside.

One of the gunmen spun and tried to hit Starsky in the crotch with the butt of his rifle. Hutch knew his partner had been waiting for - probably hoping for - just such a move, and was ready. Hutch winced only slightly when Starsky evaded the hit and clocked the guy in the side of the head with his Beretta. 

Meredith tore the mask off her assailant, revealing Clayton. Hutch’s gunman turned out to be Reed. The one unconscious at Starsky’s feet was revealed to be Hennessey. Hutch was glad his premonition about not going down easy had applied only to Finn. 

After cuffing Reed, Hutch hauled him to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed people pour out of the doorway across the street and help Dobey and Huggy get up. Thankfully, it looked as if both were okay. 

He caught Starsky’s eye and they engaged in a few seconds’ silent conversation. _It‘s over, Starsk._

_Yeah, partner, it‘s all over._

“Shit, Captain!” Huggy’s whine came through Dobey’s lapel microphone as they supported each other. “Why didn’t one of you guys tell me how much this was gonna hurt?”

*******

After the lengthy debriefing, Hutch and Starsky decided Venice was closer and made their way to Hutch’s apartment.

It was late - or early, depending on one’s point of view - when they hoped they’d worn each other out enough to sleep. Hutch turned on his side and drew the lean, wiry body back against his front. His sated cock nestled comfortably between firm butt cheeks.

“Sleep well, babe,” Starsky murmured.

“You, too, love.” But Hutch didn’t sleep. Much as he wanted to, he found himself replaying the entire evening in slow motion loops. Things had gone exactly like they’d planned and practiced but there had been so many places where just one tiny detail having been overlooked, might have resulted in an entirely different outcome, and his mind wouldn’t let it go.

Wrestling with his own demons, it wasn’t very long before Hutch felt his partner stiffen in the throes of what was possibly a similar nightmare. 

“No! Huggy, _no_!” Starsky yelled.

Hutch tightened his hold as Starsky began to thrash. “Shhhhhh. It’s a dream, Starsk. It was only a dream. Come back to me.”

Slowly, Starsky settled, shuddered, and breathed deeply. “That was what Ma would’ve called a golem-fest.” Trembling slightly, he snuggled back into Hutch. His hands found Hutch’s, which were clamped around his waist. “Thanks.”

“What happened?” Hutch whispered into chocolate curls.

“Huggy and Dobey’s vests didn’t stop the bullets. Hennessey and the others were using armor-piercing rounds and the rifles were set on full-auto.”

“Your nightmare was worse then my replay.”

Starsky rolled over, entwining their legs, and slipped his arms around Hutch. “You okay?”

Hutch kissed Starsky’s forehead. “I am now.”

Starsky’s heartbeat slowed and Hutch could feel his own match it. For a long time he hoped his partner had fallen back to sleep. When Starsky took a deep breath, however, he knew he’d been wrong.

“What would we do without Huggy?”

Hutch didn’t want to think about that but immediately realized it was a valid question. Stroking his lover’s back lightly, he considered. “Stumble around a lot, I think.”

Starsky looked up at him, his deep blue eyes troubled. “We take him for granted too often.”

“We do,” Hutch agreed. 

“Could we stop, you think?”

“I doubt it. He’s always there for us and, if we quit asking for his help, I think he’d be offended. Feel like he was letting us - you, mostly - down.”

Starsky tightened his arms around Hutch. “Well, let’s think of something really nice to do for him, okay?”

“Like what?”

“Like, maybe, send him to Jamaica for a vacation?”

“Is that where he’s from?”

Starsky shrugged. “I never asked. His accent sounds like it could be, though. Doncha think?”

“Yes, it does. That’s a good idea, Starsk. Would he go?”

Starsky looked up, grinning. “We’ll make it sound so enticing he won’t be able to turn it down.”

Hutch drew the curly-haired head back to his chest. “Let’s do it tomorrow. With the raise we got, we can afford it.”

“I don’t even want to think about losing him, Hutch.”

“We won’t. We’ll all still be around forty, fifty years from now. Hangin’ out, reminiscing, enjoying each other’s company.”

“And memories,” Starsky added.

“Those, too.”

“But we should dump tonight’s in the trash compactor, right?”

“You got it.”

 

EPILOG:

On a brilliantly sunny afternoon, a press conference - called jointly by the Mayor and Chief of Police - was held on the steps of City Hall. Ranks of TV and newspaper reporters, plus the general public, filled the wide staircase and spilled into the roped-off street. The Mayor and Chief stood at the top, waiting patiently, while everyone found as good a vantage point as possible and all the shouted questions died out. 

Starsky and Meredith, in their dress uniforms, approached the two men from the left side, holding hands. Hutch and Dinsmore, also in immaculate dress-blues, walked toward them from the right. They were holding hands as well. 

With the city’s two highest officials watching - expressions of approval on their faces - the pairs met at the center, in front of them. Ceremoniously, they exchanged hand-holds and moved so that Starsky and Hutch were holding hands at the Mayor’s right, while Meredith and Laurel were holding hands at the chief’s left. 

Everyone was silent for a several long moments.

Before reactions could become vocal, the Mayor held a microphone to his mouth and stared at his audience as if defying them to voice objections to what they were seeing. 

“We’re here today to recognize these four extraordinary police officers as same-sex couples,” the Mayor began. “And to honor their contributions to the slew of cases soon to be tried by the District Attorney’s office. They are the very best examples of law enforcement personnel this city has ever seen and I, personally, hope they’ll help keep our citizens safe for many years to come.”

Murmurs and a few shouted condemnations could be heard but the Mayor raised his hands for silence and passed the mic to the Chief who didn’t miss a beat. “The Bay City Police Department will no longer countenance discrimination against officers or applicants of a same-sex persuasion.” 

The Mayor moved shoulder-to-shoulder with him and the chief shared the mic. “Nor will this city’s government offices,” the Mayor said. “Until this state decides that legislatures have no place in people’s bedrooms, non-discrimination, tolerance, and honor is all we can offer these good people. Your chief and I gratefully thank them for their service and ask that you accept them as who they are. They are the best of us, my friends.”

Hutch squeezed Starsky’s hand and was, for the moment, content. 

 

END


End file.
